


Millicent - A Star Wars Story

by MissErso93



Series: Star Wars - Millicent Series [2]
Category: Journey to Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Armitage Hux - Freeform, Armitage Hux Has Feelings, Armitage Hux Needs A Hug, Awkward Conversations, First Love, First Order, First Order Politics (Star Wars), First Order officer, General Hux - Freeform, Millicent - Freeform, Millicent the Officer (OFC) - Freeform, Minor Kylo Ren, Multi, My First AO3 Post, My First Work in This Fandom, Nice Armitage Hux, Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Original First Order Character(s) (Star Wars) - Freeform, POV Armitage Hux, POV Female Character, POV Original Character, POV Original Female Character, Political conversation, Politics, Pre-Canon, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Star Wars - Freeform, Tags Contain Spoilers, The First Order Sucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2020-03-05 16:37:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18832504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissErso93/pseuds/MissErso93
Summary: Though it's listed as the second part, this is in fact the first part of a series that follows the journey of Millicent, a young First Order officer who started her career as a member of Starkiller Base's command deck, since her actions against a colleague's sexual harassment until her resulting proximity with General Armitage Hux, first as a spy trained by Hux himself, and later as his wife. In this first part, we're showed how Millicent gone from "just one more First Order's girl" to the General's eyes and ears inside the Base.STATUSPART I (PROLOGUE) - COMPLETEPART II (THIS ONE) - COMPLETEPART III (ACTUALLY PART II) - ONGOING





	1. Command Deck

**Author's Note:**

> \- Triggering/explicit content: none. The harassment's scene at the first chapter is NOT graphic, but if you feel uncomfortable with this matter, I recommend you to respect your limits and do not read this scene, or this story.
> 
> \- TAGs will probably change. This part of the series is already finished in its original language, but I'm considering the possibility of removing/adding TAGs if necessary.
> 
> \- This story has implicit sexual content but, again, nothing is graphic here. I understand that some people might have a preference for explicit stuff, but it doesn't fit this particular story's context, as well as my goals with it. At the same time, if you don't appreciate sexual content at all, think well before reading it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As a bridge's officer, Millicent follows a restraining routine where every little aspect of one's behavior is monitored and analyzed. The wrong word, the inappropriate reaction can mean the end of one's carrier. But her act of self defense against an officer's harrassment catches an unexpected amount of attention... of her superior himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is settled some years before Episode VII - The Force Awakens, and it follows the story of how Millicent and Hux met (though their used to work at the same place everyday, they were not known to each other. Well, Starkiller was such a big place, right?)

_"In my life, why do I give valuable time_

_To people who don't care if I live or die?"_

_(The Smiths, Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now)_

 

 

_Starkiller Base, some years ago_

 

The cold light that entered through the transparent barrier on the north side of the command deck imparted a discreet gray glow to the ceiling, to the floor and to the close surroundings, but it was not strong enough to reach the back of the place. The outskirts of the entrance and the corridors of the bridge depended on the brightness of the computer screens to be used safely by the officials who came and went with news about the progress of Starkiller Base activities.

Millicent used to think night shift would be less unpleasant, for the soft lights of the ceiling would be turned on, and the thick snow on the outside would be hidden behind the invisible wall; replacing it there would be darkness, so deep that at first glance the barrier looked like a wall not differing in anything from the other ones. But there was no remedy: her shift was the day shift, and in the past few weeks, with all the setbacks concerning the Resistance and their allies, no one should expect to have their request for a shift chang heeded with no justification but tired eyes.

The truth is that Millicent’s working table was closer to the center of the room, and her chair was immediately next to one of the main corridors, which made her exits easier and cleared part of her peripheral vision. She would have to admit that her position was not as uncomfortable as that of some of her teammates. Lately, thoughts like this were keeping her awake during work, more than the medication prescribed for her on her current visits to the ward. The table where she spent her day was not the worst one; neither was the corridor, nor the occupants of the neighboring tables. So, what was keeping her from thinking unconcernedly about her work?

But she was good at creating subtle methods to escape from boredom: several months in that job taught her to take advantage of the slightest opportunities. But the most interesting part was to observe things without letting anyone notice what she was doing.

And with the fuzz caused by the news about the movements of the enemy base, there was too much to observe.

The sliding noise of the metallic door behind her was heard, and she did not have to look to see who was entering the command deck: as soon as the noise had ceased, the shade of a black cloak and the heavy steps of feet in boots covered the distance between the corridor and the platform in front of the barrier at a speed above human capacity, and the tall figure of Kylo Ren stopped in front of General Armitage Hux, speaking harshly through his mask and clenching his fists.

Ren's feet moved so restless that Millicent thought the floor was burning underneath them; by the sudden movements of the mask towards his surroundings, he must have been waiting to be attacked at any moment. Millicent shared her attention between the computer screen and the conversation at the platform, even though she could not understand what they were saying.

She was not surprised to see how much General Hux was displeased with the conversation: his dislike for Ren was no secret to the people of the Base, and every encounter between those two was a anything less than a battle. But she would not mind the constant conflicts between one's coldness and the other's bursts of anger if they did not alter the environment of her workplace: Kylo's presence was dense as the color of his suit and caustic as the heat of his lightsaber, and the General's mood got worse at every apparition of him.

The conversation ended abruptly like all the others before it: Ren received a brief, rough reply from Hux that made him turn his back in an untimely manner and run back through the same corridor that led him there. Millicent was staring at her computer screen as he passed by her, but from the corner of her eye she noticed that the tip of his cloak almost curled up on the side of the desk. She felt more than grateful to hear the door closing behind him; she did not want to wonde what could happen if the incident with the cloak concretized right next to her. But now the room returned to the quiet and watchful calm before his arrival.

Taking all the care she could to not neglect her tasks, she observed General’s shadow on the floor going from right to left, in accordance with his slow, contained steps on the black platform. He walked with his hands behind his back, frowning, sometimes stopping and starting again as if he was tracing that path for the first time, his gaze alternating between the ground before him and the snow outside. Everyone there had a lot to worry about, but no one has more worries on his back than him. Millicent thought that it would have been better if he had received the news from someone else than the Supreme Leader’s apprentice: two or three times, she saw Hux take a deep breath and stiffen his jaw while the other spoke.

However, it was nothing but intriguing that Hux never lost his control when facing Kylo Ren's explosions: during the conversation, he did not look at anything but the black mask, and his feet remained quiet in their place, showing no intention to move; moreover, his voice did not make itself heard beyond the platform, while the shouts coming out of from Kylo’s seemed to arrive unintelligible to the all corners of the room. Watching them together was like witnessing an encounter between lava and snow.

Millicent felt a sudden irritation coming up her throat. She couldn’t find out what his fellow officers thought about it, but if she would get the permission, she would ask countless questions to her superior about that episode... as well as about all the others. How could he possibly endure such things day after day? How could he reconcile the justifiable burden of his work with the additional causes of disgust? How could he still be able to keep up with the demands o Supreme Leader Snoke despite the painful conditions he had to go through? She could not conceive any kind of compensation that would be worth so much effort, but if that was the case, Armitage Hux's prospects were stronger than anyone could have guessed. It was possible that he meditated on them every time he went through difficulties, as if to strengthen them. But there was no way to be sure: the General's closed, thoughtful expression gave her no clues, and Millicent decided she was better to put aside such distractions and take care of her own work.

The girl's attention was interrupted for the second time by the door’s opening. She looked at the chrono at the inferior corner of her computer’s screen and stiffened in her chair. She knew the footsteps that approached better than she wanted.

The presence of the pair of officers who had just arrived was even less pleasant than Kylo Ren's. She knew the officer on the left side only from sight, and from what she could remember, he never paid her any attention; his companion on the right, however, had decided to make Millicent's work a trial.

Earlier that week, they entered the room in their professional manner, and she kept minding her business without showing any interest in their arrival, until she felt some fingertips touching her neck; the shock was so strong that she almost jumped out of her chair. She looked up and saw that officer on the right giving her an indiscreet look and smiling with the corner of his mouth while his colleague followed him without noticing anything. They reached the platform, the General turned to them, a quick conversation took place and then the two men returned the same way, but she was so embarrassed that she did not see them passing, although she felt the officer's eyes all over her. The girl spent all day thinking about the episode and avoided leaving the room for the risk of meeting the man in the corridors, but a few days were enough for her to forget the subject.

However, it happened again during that week, at the same time and with the same individual, with a slight variation: his fingers also touched her ear this time. Millicent startled again, but a sparkle of indignation lit up with the repetition of the case and the apparent blindness of the people around her, and she had cultivated the wrath since that day.

She was more than ready when the man's hand reached the back of her neck. Without delay, she turned in her chair and grabbed the officer's wrist with her right hand; the joint made a horrible sound as it was twisted behind his back, and a sharp shriek of pain spread across the bridge.

Millicent stood up as she held the man's arm, pushing his head against the table; his cap got lost somewhere on the floor; he grumbled unintelligibly, his face pressed against the dark surface.

\- You...! - she yelled a swear word as she held the man by his hair; her fingers pinched his jaw, forcing him to look at her - I'll speak in a way that you understand: touch me again and I’ll rip your fingers off and make you eat them one by one!

The officer's brown eyes widened, and his mouth opened in a ridiculously surprised expression; however, his face soon twisted with rage, and he mumbled something that made Millicent raise her fist toward his face.

But the punch did not reach its destination.

She felt her wrist held with a firmness that paralyzed her arm. At the same time, she saw the officer's face fade as his eyes drifted from her to whoever was now standing beside them. She followed his look and found General Hux with his hand closed around her fist; the icy disgust in his eyes caused violent shivers over the man's body, which had lost his voice.

The General released Millicent’s wrist without paying attention to her. She took a step back and put her hands behind her back.

His voice sounded in a metallic command:

\- On your feet.

The man obeyed as best he could with the tremors and the injured arm. Hux glanced at the two Stormtroopers standing at both sides of the entrancing door. When they approached, the order was immediate:

\- Take him.

Then he turned to the second officer.

\- Wait on the platform. I will talk to you when I come back.

The officer murmured in dismay, "Yes, sir," and hurried off down the corridor.

At last he turned to the girl, speaking in a low but equally harsh tone:

\- You. Follow me.

He crossed the hall and through the door without looking back, followed by Millicent.

 


	2. Reconditioning Process

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently ignoring the protocol, Hux takes the girl's case to himself instead of leaving her to the reconditiong personnel. Then a strange conversation takes place...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there was an inspiration for Millicent's feelings during this conversation, it was my own feelings during any job interview.

_"I must become a lion-hearted girl_

_Ready for a fight"_

_(Florence and the Machine, Rabbit Heart)_

 

The corridors on the internal premises of the Base would bring some comfort to one’s tired eyes after hours spent in front of the screen of a computer compared to the bridge thanks to the profusion of bluish white lights that would spread softly across the metallic walls. Between them there was enough space for a group of people to cross them walking side by side, but the corridors were so narrow that anyone's footsteps would echo at a considerable distance. It was this detail that allowed Millicent to discover that she and General Hux were the only ones in that corridor at that moment, and the situation will be same in the one they were about to take. They have been already walking through them for a while, but they wouldn’t seem to get anywhere.

The girl was not able to tell what caused her more perplexity, if it was the incident itself or the abandonment of protocol by her superior. Her disbelief in what she had just done was great, but it wouldn’t overcome the surprise of catching the attention of her superior to the point that her case had not been transferred to the proper personnel. There was no way to discover the seriousness of the situation until she was in the process of reconditioning (and she had heard about officers being sent to the process because of minor offenses), but being removed from the room by the General himself surpassed all her expectations. Not knowing how long she had been walking through those halls in his company only increased her anxiety.

They passed by a pair of Stormtroopers guarding a door on the left side, firm on their feet, their weapons being held in front of their bodies. Although she had known some of the soldiers since childhood, Millicent did not appreciate walking so close to them while they’re in their armor: the idea that their helmets nullifying a portion of their human aspect was anything but comfortable.

She followed at steady steps at the General's left side, slightly behind him. The fact was that she could walk beside him if she wanted to, but she thought she was better not to do so: the irritation caused by Ren's arrival at the bridge and the episode with the officer would exhale through the thud of his footsteps and the firmness which with he would close his hands, coming and going at the sides of his body in an almost reckless manner. Millicent was not sure he would apologize if one of his hands hit her by accident; so, she did her best to follow her way away from him and trying not to be left behind at the same time. Her heartbeats would follow the rhythm of her footsteps.

Hux stopped in front of a door similar to the one they had passed a minute earlier, and she stopped shortly thereafter, almost bumping into him. The Stormtroopers guarding the door did not move a finger when the General pressed a button on the panel to open it. Its noise spread through the corridor, and Millicent wasted no time following him inside the room. At her back, she heard footsteps approaching; she looked over her shoulder and saw the shape of a black uniform moving toward the bridge. The metal plate blocked her vision as the General pressed the button inside.

She turned to her superior and saw him walk and stop behind a wide dark table, his hands behind his back, his eyes fixed on his subordinate.

Armitage Hux was almost as tall as Kylo Ren, but for some people he could be even more intimidating. Being now close to him and as the current point of his attention, Millicent could understand their reasons.

The General was not a user of the so-called Force, but he used to emanate something that kept his subordinates on alert as to what they could say in front of him and what was better keeping for themselves. He didn’t use to hide n irascible tendencies behind a mask, nor was he susceptible to sudden outbursts of anger like Ren, but what could be glimpsed through the rigidity of his cheekbones and the contortions of his mouth was enough for one to detect the beginnings of rage or a slight burst of impatience. He would never disguise or amplify his voice by artificial methods, but it was quite strong and always seemed to be ready to reach the highest notes when necessary.

And then there were his eyes.

It was through them that Hux let out anything that could resemble a passionate inflammation. They were blue, but of a clear and wintry variation shade that would assimilate other colors with a capacity that might put them in the level of some sort of transparency. As much as they could reveal nothing they could say more than one would want to know.

The table, placed at the center of the room, described a modest, professional separation between them. The pale light of the place, not unlike that of the bridge, would make the black of the General’s regimentals seem navy blue. Millicent had no way of knowing the effect of that illumination on her own appearance, but she thought the General's face seemed bleaker than it was, while an opaque orange had taken the place of the vibrant shade of his red hair.

The first words were spoken by him.

\- Sit down.

The command sounded lower than Millicent expected, but she obeyed immediately.

He pulled the chair on his side of the table and did the same; then put his hands on the table and stared at the girl.

\- What is your name?

\- Millicent, Sir.

The answer was calm and restrained, with nothing to justify Hux's strange expression after hearing her name: it was as if, as he listened to it, his thoughts were transposed elsewhere.

But there was no time for any deliberation of this sort, for he soon returned to his usual sobriety.

\- Well... Millicent. How do you describe what just happened at the command deck?

She thought for a second before opening her mouth.

\- As a self-defense act, Sir.

He frowned.

\- Self-defense?

\- Precisely, Sir.

Objective gentleness, as well as honesty, seemed to be the best way to communicate with people like him. Yet they were a rough path.

\- As a self-defense act… An interesting choice of words, indeed – he replied without taking his eyes off her, his voice rising at every word – But as far as I can see, you abandoned your tasks, distracted your partners, wounded an officer, said such things I do not dare repeat and would have done more, if it were not for my interference. Why?

Millicent knew she should choose her next words with even more care. She looked at her hands in her lap, clutching one another, and began to speak.

\- I would not have done any of this if I was not sure I had a justification, Sir. This co-worker you referred to passed me by, harassed me and moved on, convinced that his behavior is appropriate and acceptable - she looked away from her hands and stared at the General - That was the third time this week, and no one seemed to notice. So, I tried to solve the problem myself. But I'm very sorry to cause troubles for my fellow servants, Sir.

Hux kept silent for a minute or two. His eyes seemed to darken with the reflection of the table and what he had just heard. He studied her with such insistence that the girl had to look away; but she felt herself being watched the whole time she faced her own hands, and then the dark table upon which there was nothing but a datapad. What was he looking for? Signs that she had spoken the truth? Any flaws in her allegation that could be used against her? Or would he have understood everything and still decided to punish her?

At last, he clasped his hands together and rested his elbows on the surface in front of him ... And suddenly changed the subject.

\- Tell me, that word with which you addressed the man. What does it mean?

Millicent felt her face getting warm and blush. If he heard what was she said, she must have screamed louder than she thought. But how could he not know what that word was all about? Was he testing her? Anyway, the question was not rhetorical, and she had to reply.

\- It is a pejorative expression, Sir. It is usually used to refer to a man who shows blatant disrespect to women and everything related to the female gender.

She thought she heard a muffled laugh as she fell silent.

\- It is a dirty word. You just had to say that - Hux answered in an unpleasant tone of correction; and then, looking her closely – Millicent, I appreciate your concern for providing thoughtful answers, but I'd appreciate it if you also learned to make them quick and objective. As well as understanding the intentions behind the questions you answer.

A sudden irritation rose up the girl's throat with that reprimand. So, he had taken her off the bridge and locked her in a room with guards at the door only to mock her? Let that be the case.

Hux wanted objectivity, so that was what he would have.

\- And I am sorry, General Hux, but I do not appreciate any word of what you've just said.

Millicent did not change her tone at all, but the silence that followed her response cooled the room and seemed to reduce the fragile light. She listened to her heart throbbing in her chest and echoing in her stomach and head; her hands clutched at her thighs, hidden by the table. Hux's, on the other hand, remained visible, and though with gloves it was possible to imagine the knuckles so white that the bones began to break through the skin and escape outwards. His lips closed with the same force, and the wrinkles around them betrayed a bitter response.

Millicent silently prepared to listen...

But it did not come.


	3. Ignorance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one when we see pales skins and leather gloves making the poor Millicent leave her mind wander for such an inappropriate amount of time...

_"I move delicately_

_I slowly choose my words"_

_(Waxahatchee, A Little More)_

 

Millicent could not keep up with everything.

The wrinkles disappeared from the General's face as quickly as they had come, and his hands parted with unimaginable placidity for someone who had just been counteracted in such a blatant way. Any tiny spark of anger or dissatisfaction that might have burst out in response to the girl's attitude was restrained and set aside; for now, there were issues that deserved his entire attention. What issues were these, only he could tell.

And Millicent waited for him to tell, but again, Hux seemed to sidestep the subject.

– A concise answer. Not at all inconceivable, but produced from a momentary impulse – he took time observing her face in order to not lose a single detail of her reaction to what was being said – But the readiness with which you took the advice is remarkable – and seeing the expected incomprehension in her eyes – Is there anything you would like to ask?

Millicent was not sure how to put her thoughts into words.

– Well, Sir... The way you are managing the reconditioning process is a bit peculiar – and looking him in the eye for a second – Is there any reason for that?

With his eyebrow, he made an almost imperceptible sign of denial.

– Millicent, look around you. Does this look like a reconditioning session to you?

– Well… No, Sir.

The General did not answer. Instead, he picked up the datapad from the table as if only then he was aware of its existence, then spoke again without taking his eyes off its screen.

– If you are concerned about the primary effects of your behavior, and it does seem to be the case, here is what I have to say: I do not fully approve the means by which you dealt with the situation, but I have to say that I am sort of... Grateful for what happened.

The girl could not believe in what her ears were capturing. The situation was becoming more and more senseless.

– Grateful, Sir?

– Yes – his hands dropped the datapad and got their fingers reunited as he spoke; she looked at the object’s screen hoping to find out what her superior had been looking for, but he had already turned it off – The case is that this officer had been causing problems for long enough, and I was looking for a way to exonerate him permanently. And now we have two problems solved at once.

Millicent chose not to think about the exonerate him permanently part and focused on her own relief from seeing the resolution of the case.

– These are good news, Sir.

– Indeed.

Then the features of the old Hux returned to his countenance, as well as his speech.

– But beware of this: I will not tolerate untimely attitudes from now on, whether they come from you or anybody else. Absolutely nothing about this case will be added in the Starkiller’s personnel history, but no matter the circumstances, you should not repeat what you did today. Understood?

– Yes Sir. But... – the _but_ escaped before she could shut her mouth.

– Yes?

– What should I do in case of a second occurrence?

– There will not be a second occurrence – he pushed the datapad to the left corner of the table and glanced at the door behind the officer – Now, go back to your tasks.

Millicent nodded and left her chair, then headed for the door. She stopped in front of the barrier and placed her hand upon the side panel…

But did not press it.

The questions she had been passing through the morning in front of her computer – as well as on the previous mornings – and the latent curiosity about the reasons that led Hux to take her case to himself returned suddenly, encouraged by the unforeseen agreement with which the conversation was over.

She turned abruptly to the side of the table.

– Sir!

He looked up at her with some surprise, and she had the embarrassing realization that she might had spoken too loud.

– Yes, Millicent? – he raised an eyebrow.

Suddenly, she understood that she should have left without saying anything and forced herself to improvise.

– ...Thank you.

Hux's manner relaxed at those two words, and the tone with which he answered made Millicent's face get warm.

– I know what you're thinking.

He stood up; the noise of his chair being pushed back to its previous place behind the table echoed across the silent space between them, followed by the General's slow steps toward the door. He stopped in front of the girl, his hands behind his back; on his lips, the suggestion of a smile that did not even come close to his eyes.

– But understand this: I have no intentions towards discussing this matter with you. It is just not the most convenient thing to do.

She nodded and tried to turn around to open the door, but her feet did not move.

– And now you're blushing – the General continued, ignoring the girl's embarrassment – I’m wondering why.

Millicent opened her mouth before thinking of something polite to say, and nor the officer or her superior could expect for what followed.

– Well, I ... I have no intentions towards discussing this with you... Sir.

Hux frowned, and the impression of smile grew even sharper in his lips.

– Well. Fair enough.

He stretched out his right hand and laid it on the side panel for a moment. A single inch of his coat’s sleeve retracted, leaving the white skin of his wrist at sight until the point where the dark line of his leather glove began; by that light’s influence, the contrast between the black of the fabric and the pallor of the skin was not something one could ignore. Millicent thought something – a fragrance, perhaps – had reached her nostrils at the moment of his hand’s approach.

The girl started to think she left her mind wander for such an inappropriate amount of time and turned back to her superior. He spoke again as soon as he regained her attention.

– Before you go back to work, I suggest you take a moment to put yourself together. Nobody needs to know what happened here. Do you understand?

\- Yes, Sir.

Millicent nodded and turned quickly to the button in order to not caught herself saying thoughtless things again, but she did not have to press it: Hux opened the door, and she went out into the corridor without looking back.

 

***

 

The absence of tonality variation in the lights and the blackness of the bathroom walls, reflected by the large mirror over the sink, helped Millicent to evaluate the state of her appearance at the moment she left the room and almost bumped into one of the Stormtrooopers guarding the door outside.

Her skin was pale, this impression accentuated by the color of her hair; her mouth, covered by a slight shade of purple, was trembling; there was a subtle swelling under her eyes, these two dark globes turned bluish dull to that light. This is exactly what the Stormtrooopers saw when she arrived and when she left.

This is what the officer saw when she pushed him onto the table and stared at him.

This is also what the General saw. With the inopportune addition of the blush.

The girl bent down and washed her face until the heat of her cheeks was relieved. She used paper towels to get rid of the moisture from her forehead and around her mouth but left the rest as it was; she would wait another minute or two for the water to cool her skin.

The blush, however, would take a long time to leave.

Suddenly she noticed that her hands were shaking; no, her whole body was shaking, and she was forced to hold on to the sink. The heart beatings were pulsing in her head, pressing behind her eyes, which began to burn and weep. She left a swear word escape in a harsh whisper; the case was that until now she had imagined herself to be in reasonable control of her own reactions, but her flushed face, her uncontrolled pulse, and the gasps she was seeing in the mirror made the officer rethink her convictions.

She was not happy with her current conditions but tried not to blame herself for them. Confronting a man who had been bothering her for an entire week in front of so many people, crossing those cold corridors with a particularly irritated General as her only company, enduring his gaze for minutes and daring to disagree with him in that peremptory manner was more than she expected to do in a single morning. In fact, she had never thought there would be an opportunity for all of it, even if she spent years at her post.

And then there was that other detail.

Like all officers working at Starkiller Base, Armitage Hux would wear his regimentals so that all unnecessary physical details were left out of sight: the sleeves of his greatcoat, his gloves, and the collar closed to the last button did their job at keeping hidden anything that should stay away from the eyes of curious people. But the sudden appearance of that gap between the sleeve of his coat and the glove – that discreet pale gap, suddenly emerging from the hem of his coat and ending so abruptly where the black leather of the glove were closed on a small button of the same color – the apparition of that breach had been so unexpected, so out of order, that Millicent could not help thinking that its display by the General was anything but deliberate. But, as in so many other decisions of him, the girl saw no plausible reason for it. Why did he choose to do it for her? What would make him think she deserved to have access to something others did not have? Or was he mocking her right from the start? The last hypothesis was too cruel for the girl to dwell upon it for long.

A noise behind her back interrupted her thoughts.

The mirror revealed a door opening and a familiar figure coming out of it.

Ashla, who used to work at a table next to Millicent's and had been transferred to the service on the bridge a few months before her, looked at her colleague as she washed her hands.

– Millie.

– Hello.

The noise of the jet in the sink ceased, and Ashla turned to Millicent, her soaked hands wrapped in paper towels, her blond hair turned white by the illumination of the ceiling, a wrinkle of concern appearing in her serene face.

– I saw what happened. Are you...?

– I'll be fine – was the other's abrupt response – But I must calm down before returning to the bridge – and, before the other woman could make any questions – It was his explicit recommendation.

Only after she spoke, Millicent realized that she had referred to her superior with the informal manner she would use to speak about a Stormtrooper. Ashla frowned.

– That's right. Well, I do not understand why the General decided to take the case by himself, but I hope he was not too harsh on you – the calming down story had not convinced her – Things got especially tense after Lord Ren's arrival at the bridge today, and what you did... – she laughed wryly – Well, it was inconceivable!

Millicent felt warmed by her colleague’s interest but talking about what happened was the last thing she wanted to do at that moment.

– I do not understand either, but the General did what he thought to be the best. You do not need to worry about me. Thank you, anyway.

The other officer spoke a little louder than would be appropriate in Millicent's conception:

– He did what he thought to be the best? So did you – a clever smile began to form on Ashla's lips – Thank you for that.

\- _That_ what?

Ashla lowered her voice; the smile disappeared from her face.

– You were not the first.

Hux's comment on the unfavorable history of the man was the first thing to come to the girl’s mind; his generic tone gave no room for deliberation, which now seemed surprising. However, her colleague’s expression left no doubt as to what she was referring to.

– Oh… You too?

The other nodded.

– In my first week on the bridge.

– I'm sorry.

– You don’t need to feel sorry, for now we are free from him. Thanks to you.

Millicent wondered if Ashla could understand the weight of what she had just said if she had heard their superior when he talked about exonerating the man permanently.

– Right, but... Please, forget about this case. Everyone saw what happened. Besides, today was a rough morning – she frowned – To all of us.

Ashla gave a half smile that did not please Millicent at all.

– He gave you orders not to talk about the case, did he?

– Ashla, please. Whether with or without an order, I wish this was all forgotten. The less we talk, the faster we'll leave it behind.

– Of course – the officer put her hand on her partner’s shoulder before leaving – Thank you, Millie. Thank you.

As Ashla stepped out of the bathroom, Millicent sighed, grateful.

Then she remembered something that made her look down at her arm and pull the sleeve off her uniform.

– Oh – was all that she said.

There was no pain or swelling, no redness or fingerprints around her wrist, the same one that Hux had held to prevent her from punching the officer.

The skin was clear and unblemished as ever.

 

***

 

Fulfilling the General’s order, Millicent did not take more than a few moments to return to her position at the bridge.

She crossed the austere corridors that once led her to the room, trying to ignore her pulse, which was speeding up again, and so were her steps, making her walking so fast that breathing became a hard task. The Stormtrooopers, silent at their positions outside the bridge, seemed taller and sterner than they would have been if the circumstances were different, and for a single time Millicent felt grateful for them to have helmets hiding their faces.

She pressed the button to open the door and tried not to concentrate on the looks she would have all over herself when she’d take the first step into that place.

 

***

 

Millicent was aware of the presence of a colleague from the bridge as well as a Stormtrooper she knew only by sight sitting beside her on the table, the noise of the conversations around her, the cutlery pounding on the plates, and the footsteps of the officers crossing the corridors of the cafeteria in search of an empty table but did not seem to hear anything. She also did not seem to see the dish in front of her, though she kept her eyes down at it. Her elbows were on the table, one hand holding the spoon, the other resting under her chin.

That was the last meal of the day, for her working hours were over. The morning, the indiscreet officer, the exit from the bridge, the conversation with the General – everything had been left behind for hours. Or at least it should have been. He told her, no, he _ordered_ her not to tell anyone about the reconditioning, or what had happened in its place. She knew she should let the story fall by the wayside, but her memory had always been such an awful stubborn thing.

And there she was, not daring to look around and imagining that every person who would enter the dining room and pass by her table would look and remember. Suddenly the Base did not look that big anymore; now everyone knew her, and everyone was whispering about her.

When the officer sitting next to her bumped into her arm by accident, she woke up and noticed she was holding the spoon halfway to her mouth. The content fell back on the plate, and Millicent forced herself to look at her colleague, who was apologizing in her typical formal and anxious manners.

– Are you all right, Millicent? Sorry for hitting you.

– It's all right, Baara – She did not look at her, nor could she disguise the tiredness in her voice.

Then both girls heard someone cover up a laugh.

– The poor girl survived, but she was left with sequels. What a pity!

Millicent looked around looking for the one who had spoken and saw the Stormtrooper grinning at her in a complacent way. He was a man of hoarse voice and harsh manners, dark eyes under thick eyebrows, and a big mouth in a rounded face, not so pleasing to look.

– I'm really good. I was just thinking.

He frowned and twisted his mouth.

– That's what usually happens when you get reconditioned – he straightened in his chair – But in your case, with the General...

Baara interrupted the soldier and said with sensibility:

– Millicent, what he’s trying to say is that it's not a surprise if all the experience seems to have been too much for you. When you left the room, I closed my eyes and waited to hear his yells from my place. And you know my desk is far from the door, as much as yours.

Millicent smiled inside. If only she knew, she thought. If only _they_ knew. She began to think it was a pity that Hux had forbidden her to speak; it would be a more than worthwhile experience to see the reaction of any of them if they discovered what really happened in that room. For the first time, she thought about the case with no shades of anxiety or shame.

Her response to Baara's concerns was calmer than she had expected:

– It was weird and scary at first, yes, but I'm now fine. I've just been trying to understand what happened.

– If I were you, I would not waste my time trying – said the Stormtrooper – General Hux has the Base all to himself and he only does what he wants – he shuffled the meal on his plate – If half a dozen people in this place could understand all his decisions, I would be very surprised.

The man laughed at his own comment and Baara gave him a disapproving look.

Millicent felt a little discomfort. Why did it seem like no one could understand or try to understand what was going on around there? Could it be correct to have ignorance as the watchword? Maybe the General always wanted things to be that way. Or maybe he did not mind but still would take advantage of it. She could not be sure, and yet she thought about it more often than she liked or more than would be appropriate. The truth is that the little she thought she knew would lead her to unpleasant conclusions.

Millicent felt that these questions were not appropriate for a discussion in a space full of people like the cafeteria, so she was better not to think too much about it while in the company of those two. It was better to fail by lack than by excess.

There was still green milk in her disposable cup when she stood up to leave; she drank what was left, said good-bye to her companions, and headed down the corridors for a place where she would not have to decide what it was or was not appropriate to think.


	4. Disorder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one when Millicent thinks she can finally rest by watching the sunset, but a curious rosy-cheeked General appears and decides it would be a great idea if they would discuss politics outside the Base...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter I took inspiration from Hux's canon prospects, as well as common dictatorial visions we can find in History, for opressive regimes are based on very similar principles. This scene of a conversation between a young woman and her superior, indeed an unusual thing in First Order's environment, was the first scene I imagined when I started to create the plot for this fic. I've been in love with the character of General Hux since my first time seeing The Force Awakens by all the political and historical references in the speech's scene well blended with his personal passion for his mission in the Order, so I always wanted to write something that explores his ideology through his own voice. This is one of my favorite chapters of this fic, one that I read and re-read from time to time.
> 
> FOR YOU, READER: Also, if you read all the previous chapters and reach this one, here's my THANK YOU for your time, attention and patience. If you want to comment, please stay at will and do it so I will know what you think about this fic. BUT REMEMBER: haters and trolls won't get the attention they want here. Bye.

_“Another promise, another scene_

_Another package lie_

_To keep us trapped in greed"_

_(Muse, Uprising)_

 

 

Carrying the cup of green milk with her while leaving the cafeteria was typical of Millicent.

The girl could not remember when she that habit began, and now she always caught herself doing it unconsciously. When she would look down, there would be the little cup between her fingers. It was just one of those insignificant habits against which no one minded establishing a clear ban, for it was not flashy enough to bother the superiors.

Her routine was interspersed, no, it was punctuated by such habits.

Steam was still escaping from the cup, gathering in the palm of her gloved hand, though she had taken the last sip of the drink minutes ago. She shifted her cup from one hand to another and exposed the hot palm to the cold air; the heat disappeared as she walked.

Her prayers for an evening without snow were somewhat answered, and now she was walking somewhere in the open air at the west wing of the Starkiller, a spacious terrace with dark stoned floor and parapet. The awareness of the architectural and disciplinary conformity of that place with the rest of the Base would not inhibit her: the vast wilderness ahead and above, so disconnected from construction, was encouraging enough, and she would take every minute there to be nothing else but herself. Tired, sleepy or anxious, that landscape, cold in every way, would make no judgments.

The isolation and the silence were only interrupted by occasional pairs of Stormtrooopers, too busy with their own work (and with their own conversations) to pay any attention to whoever was there holding a cup. A pair had just disappeared behind a corner ahead, and the next one would take some time to arrive.

The girl stopped at a height near the center of the place and set the cup on the parapet.

Then looked around.

The last flaming ray of light was now hidden behind the mountain peaks in the distance, suffocated by heavy clouds. Probably the snowstorm they were bringing would reach the base camp at dawn. The thick layers of white ice that began in the heights were descending and scattering across the floor of the immense occupied territory, ahead and below; the sky above was gloomy but not totally dark, as in almost every late afternoon on that planet; the blue of the fading day would blend sky and land on the farthest places and alter the shades of everything in the surroundings.

Millicent looked at the ground ahead and to the east and saw a subtle movement around a black spot opened like a wound in the icy surface. It was the observable part of the Weapon of which the First Order was so proud: the flaming column of solar matter visible as it was recharged would make the girl recognize the validity of such pride. Part of her was thinking about how long it would take until Starkiller drained all the energy from that sun, and the other part wondered what would happen when the current star lost its utility.

The only thing out of sight was the east wing, where the command deck was placed.

_After a day like this, getting away from there is the best thing I can do for myself._

Millicent rested her arms on the parapet and looked down. The night-time staff began their activities, pacing the black pavement and trying to protect themselves from the cold; fortunately, there was little to do outside.

A breeze stirred some of the curls of her hair, and she arranged them back. She untied them as soon as she left the internal premises: the headache from keeping them tied up all day bothered her now as much as it used to do in her first months of service. She pressed her fingers at her temples and began to massage them in an attempt to relieve the pain. She closed her eyes and forgot all the rest.

The girl did not see when he arrived.

– The farthest place from the bridge that one can reach by walking.

Millicent startled. She turned her back on the snow and immediately straightened up her position.

– Sir.

A lock of her hair drifted forward as she stood against the breeze’s direction, but she did not dare put it backwards.

The tall figure of Armitage Hux approached the parapet, his hands behind his back, his eyes fixed on his officer and her untidiness.

– You walk a lot.

She did not answer. When she fixed his face, she saw that his cheeks were rosy, certainly by the low temperature. It used to happen to other colleagues of her who were as pale as him.

Her mouth opened before she could control it.

– It's too cold to be outside.

The shadow of a smile appeared on his lips.

– I was going to say the same to you.

He was about to pass by Millicent but stopped in front of her as if he had changed his mind. He raised his right hand and, with a wave of his fingers, brushed the lock of her hair back. The girl had to force her feet to stay in place, resisting the temptation of jumping away: the General's gestures were always sudden, but it was like he would calculate them to find her off guard.

He turned and stood at her left, one hand on the parapet, the other on his back. She laid her both upon the black stone.

– I was not expecting to meet you here, Sir. Sorry if I sounded surprised.

– No one is ever expected in this place other than the guards, Millicent.

So, he went there just to accuse her of being in a forbidden place? As far as she knew, there was no restriction to walking around that place. It was just unusual that one would decide to do it.

Something besides embarrassment burned within her: she always fought – and lost – a battle against an inauspicious inability to deal with situations that required immediate response. During her time of preparation for the service she was now in, she realized that she could hide it with some discretion and seriousness, but someone like Hux would soon discover this tendency and use it as he pleased. Millicent still did not know if she was irritated that her superior had ruined her disguise or relief by not needing to wear it before him.

With his hands behind him, he watched the territory without saying a word, as he used to do on the bridge. Looking sideways, she glanced at him, trying to figure out the direction of his thoughts, but the General was not a man one could judge so easily.

She decided to forget the issue of embarrassment.

– The truth is that I like to come here when my shift is over – she considered adding that the guards would not bother her while she was there, but she gave up on time – It's not like the cafeteria or the quarters, Sir. You can really rest from the noise of the day here.

– Yes – he agreed – It's calm. Reserved. Appropriate.

_Reserved? Appropriate? Why so many adjectives?_

– It's not an easy job to find this kind of place on a military base.

– That's frustrating, Sir.

He nodded without answering.

Millicent glanced over her shoulder, expecting a Lieutenant who would not get intimidated by the cold or a pair of Stormtroopers to come up with a demand for Hux's attention. It was not pleasant to find herself trapped between the responsibility of choosing each word carefully and the awareness that he was probing her, just as he had been that morning: the meeting now was anything but accidental.

A curious idea crossed her brain.

_He is perfectly capable of conducting an examination like this, but he has no idea how to manage a casual conversation. He doesn’t even seem to know what that means._

As if reality had worked to confirm theory he asked, after an abnormally long pause:

– What exactly attracts you here? – he glanced from one end to the other with no genuine interest – I understand that tranquility itself is an advantage, but this place lacks a decent view.

That was an understandable thought after a long time without seeing anything else than ice-covered terrain, but she had her reasons for choosing that place. Was it possible that Hux could understand their validity? There was no way to tell. She thought about trying to get away from the subject, but soon she knew she could not do it.

She had no choice but to give an honest answer.

– Sometimes, Sir, I see so much during my work that at the end of the day, a great nothing like this as a panorama is all I need.

– Well, in this case, you chose very well.

The General made no comments after that, but he also did not show that he intended to leave. Millicent had to arrange another topic for the conversation.

– I heard a speech of yours once, Sir.

– Really? – he glanced at her direction.

– Yes. But I could not see very well. My place was not that good.

Suddenly Hux decided he would need to watch her reaction closely to what he would say next.

He turned to her as he spoke:

– What if the case were different?

This time she did not blush.

– It would have been helpful. There would be plenty to observe.

– I see – he slowly withdrew his hand from the parapet – Like what?

– Well, people's reactions.

– Reactions? You would not have seen much. Stormtroopers, for example, are always wearing their helmets on such occasions.

– The Stormtroopers, yes. But not those who use to stay close to you, Sir. Nor the officers.

He frowned.

– Your concern to observe is admirable. Even during your shift – what she heard instead was _I am aware of every distracting crisis of yours, even though my attention seems to be far from my subordinates_ – I know there is a lot of work to do in this field. I suppose it gets you pretty busy.

– Observing? Yes, Sir. Though...

– Yes?

Millicent turned to him.

– Though perhaps I do not see as much as I should.

– And what do you think you’re supposed to see?

Hux was not used to hear members of his crew making enigmatic statements. But the girl did not back away from the question.

– Sir, would you give me permission to speak to you freely?

The answer came soon:

– Permission granted.

She focused her attention on the little cup of milk in front of her, forgotten since the General's arrival. She started to pass it through her hands.

– When you look to the future ... What do you see, Sir?

The General turned to the view ahead, the same austere stance as before.

Millicent discreetly followed the change of attitude, but then lowered her eyes again to the cup. People like Armitage Hux never expect to be questioned about their prospects; he took as much time to reflect on the question as possible. When he spoke, his tone was low, but it was still the same he used when she saw him speak.

– Order. It is something we carry even in our name. Do you know why we value it so much?

She thought for a moment.

– Because no good can come from where there is no order, Sir.

– Very well – he nodded – The problem is that disorder increases as time passes. It is a tendency found in all places, in all things and in all living creatures.

Millicent thought of all the moments of confusion and misunderstanding she went through in her life. The tendency was in her, and perhaps more in her than in any other creature.

– Expand this trend until you reach the proportions of our galaxy and you will understand the seriousness of things. Without proper maintenance, the Galaxy would not survive for too long. And, as you said, no good can come of it as long as it continues to have chaos as its ruler. But I see something great being made out of this Galaxy. Something much desired, but never accomplished, either by the inability of those who tried or by the lack of collaboration of those who preferred to increase the chaos.

He took a step toward her.

– I see law and order being taken to the darkest places of our Galaxy. Places the Empire lost to its enemies and places that the New Republic, with its inefficiency, will never be capable to reach. The First Order will not make the same mistakes of those regimes. And we have everything we need to ensure that, Millicent. But keep in mind that I am not just talking about what is concrete. You cannot always see what sustains power.

Millicent thought about Ren and the Supreme Leader. But she knew Hux was not referring to the Force. The Force, whatever it was, was something expendable: as far as she could remember, the General never needed its support to get to the place where he was.

– Usually, people look for what can unify in their cause all the things they believe to be necessary to maintain their systems – he continued – Order, peace, progress and prosperity are always at the top of the list. It is supposed that those who are in charge must be the responsible for uniting and concretize all these ideals. I recognize the merits of this philosophy, but the problems start to appear when those in power insist on old-fashioned precepts, even with logic and circumstances to testify their ineffectiveness. The fate of all systems that follow this path is collapse, and that one of all those who lean on their lies is suffering, if not destruction.

The General's eyes fixed on Millicent, blue and icy as the atmosphere around them.

– I see a future in which this mistake does not repeat, and if it does, that it does not be tolerated, so that all the work we’re doing now will not be thrown away, and Galaxy will not return to the primordial disorder from which it would have just left. This is what I see.

Looking ahead, he silenced, restraining the decided line of the speech, perhaps hoping that the cold would relieve the heat that had come to his face. Then he turned to his subordinate, the same shadow of smile she had seen at other times dancing in the corner of his mouth.

– It seems I ended up talking unreservedly, after all. So, let's be fair – the shadow increased, and the girl thought he would actually smile – After all I've told you, I think I have the right to demand from you reasons for such a question.

 


	5. Ideals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one when we see our babies discussing very important stuff while playing with an empty milk cup lol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started to write this scene, I was not intending to give Hux this sarcastic tone when he talks about people's ideologies or their lack of principles even inside the First Order, because we all know he truly believes in the efficiency of his Stormtrooper training program and such, but I ended up thinking it suits him well, because he's not a naive guy and he's also canonically good at observing and reading people, which is one my favorite things in his character.

_"I never really noticed that I have to decide_

_To play someone's game or live my own life "_

_(Lana Del Rey, Get Free)_

 

 

Millicent did not question Hux's right to demand an explanation. In fact, she already expected this would happen and had even thought about some arguments she could use to answer. At the same time, she would try to figure out the best way to present them: her career in the First Order might not be too long, but she knew enough about its operation to know that speaking freely to her superiors should not imply deliberately putting herself under suspicion.

She stopped playing with the cup as she spoke:

– Understanding what you see, Sir, and guiding myself in accordance to your perspective seemed to be the safest path to follow.

Hux approached and took the cup from her hands, holding it between his. Millicent did not miss the contact between his fingers and hers, but she did not dare to look. She has been analyzed, evaluated for too long and would like to preserve herself, at least for once.

– The safest path to follow, you say? For what? – he asked, without looking away from her – You ask me to speak freely but keep fleeing from the real matter.

The officer looked down to her feet.

– I am sorry, Sir.

When she looked at his face again, instead of exasperation she noticed such an expression that might well mean _We have overcome this, Millicent. Why are you apologizing?_

However, he only said:

– Just speak.

She nodded and took a deep breath.

– I seek the safest path because I am young. Therefore, I haven’t been in the First Order for that long, Sir. Inexperience is a premise to misjudgment, and it is my desire to avoid it at all costs.

He evaluated her words.

– A good reason, indeed. But it is not enough.

 _But I think it is_ , she would have answered if she could.

He smirked.

– I know it sounds like a good answer, and it does. Or it would do if it had come from any other officer’s mouth. But you understand that not everyone here would question me about my prospects the way you did. So, I want to know what led _Millicent_ to do it, not listen to what anyone would tell me if I asked.

Millicent held her breath. There was no escape from the trap in which she had thrown herself. Her hands tightened on each other as she spoke, hoping her voice would not fail her.

– I ... I really want to see the results of our work, Sir. I really want to help the First Order in its mission to transform the Galaxy into an orderly, peaceful and dignified place for those who work with us and for those who will live here after us. The point is... forgive me, Sir, but the point is I've been scared. Scared of what I see and of what I cannot see, and of what I could see ...

She put her right hand on the parapet and looked at the mountains.

– I've been thinking about it for so long that I cannot tell you when it all began, Sir. All I know is that I think about it from the moment I open my eyes, as I get up, get ready and start my activities, as I watch people coming and going through the rooms and corridors taking care of their own work, and following this pace for days and days, until the time I lay down to sleep – she remembered the episode in the mess hall and Stormtrooper's words – That's when I began to watch my teammates more closely. I tried to discover in their actions some clue about their prospects, whether they could see the same as me or not and... I could not find anything, Sir. I do not speak for them, but I don’t want to think I am the only one to look for what I’ve just said. And not seeing what I look for in those around me is so... Solitary.

The girl wrapped her arms around her body. Her confession would make her so exposed that she was afraid that something else would escape without her consent.

– I have finally understood that I will not be able to do what is required of me as long as I have no more than an ordinary belief in a collective cause. I need more in order to not be afraid, Sir.

Millicent said nothing else and waited for the sentence. What she had just said was truer than anything that had come out of her mouth since she began to serve the First Order. Her words would have as much power to cause a slight improvement in Armitage Hux's opinion on her as to do the extreme opposite. Expectations, however, tended to the second case.

For a brief moment she tried to imagine what the people she knew would say if they were in her place, and she hoped – with a hope as tenuous as the breeze that unfolded her hair and the General's greatcoat – that they would have opinions similar to hers. For almost a minute, nothing was noticeable but their breath and Millicent's fast heart beatings (which she could swear he was hearing).

So, with intense gratitude she received the logical and impartial response of her superior, which was no more than the conclusion of his confession.

– And then, not seeing the ideals that should guide your fellow workers, you decided to take notice of mine.

For she had nothing better to reply, the girl chose the reason she thought to be most obvious.

– Well, you are our General, Sir.

– And do you think that should be enough to standardize the goals of everyone who keeps the First Order up and running?

Millicent thought she should say something, but Hux went on answering the question himself:

– No, it is not. It is rash, if not foolish, to think it is, and I will tell you why.

One floor below the one on which they stood, two Stormtroopers were guarding a door, motionless, one to its left and the other to its right; the door was invisible to those on the upper level. Hux leaned toward the soldiers, hands behind his back, in his eyes the look of someone who was doing nothing but checking if the two men were still breathing.

– See those soldiers?

Millicent reached out to look at them, hands on the parapet. She nodded.

– You know they are prepared for a very different kind of work from that one you and your colleagues perform – he continued – Do you think there is a chance to one of them end up in a position similar to yours now, asking their superior about ideals, goals, and visions of the future?

She tried to soften her answer:

– The chances are few, Sir.

– The chances are nil – he interjected – Because these are not the things with which Stormtroopers are supposed to worry about.

Suddenly he seemed to remember that he still had the cup in his hands. He left it on the parapet, its edge turned up.

– Some people assume they have what they would call a long-range vision, when in fact they cannot see a hand in front of the nose.

He turned the cup upside down.

– Other people could even have a reasonable understanding of things if they were not blinded by their own passion and other foolishness.

The cup was again turned up. Kylo Ren's name came to Millicent's mind, but she did not say anything.

– Yet there are the ones who see exactly what is to be seen and behave accordingly, while others can’t see anything and are not worried about their situation, like these Stormtroopers.

The cup was turned a third time, perhaps more firmly than before.

– Still, they all work for one entity and participate in the achievement of the same goals. Do you know why?

– No, Sir.

The shadow of a smile grew over his face as he lifted the cup from the parapet and placed it in the girl’s hands, closing them around the little object. This time Millicent decided to look. A strange sensation, like a mixture of desire and hopelessness, cooled her heart as it disappeared between their four gloved hands, a sensation that went as fast as it came.

– It seems difficult to find an answer when we think that only those who believe in a common cause can work together – Hux continued, oblivious to what had happened – But the case becomes simpler when we change our perspective. They work for the First Order, not because they like it or believe in it, but because it works.

Millicent shifted her weight from one foot to the other; her hands held the cup more tightly than it was necessary. It was getting more and more difficult to keep strict watch over every word she would say, and she had never felt the need to take care to not incur the displeasure of the General as exhausting as now.

She decided to use an appropriate measure of innocence in order to maintain her dignity, at the same time neutralizing any disfavor on his part.

– Could it be that way, Sir? People at least need to believe that they can earn something from what they do, don’t they?

– Certainly, and here we find the vital difference that goes unnoticed by many: there are those ones who trust in the cause itself, and those who at least trust that they will get something from it – he looked around, for nothing or anyone in particular – There are countless individuals in this latter category here. You are surrounded by them.

The General spoke with the satisfaction of one who sees a conversation following the intended course; and as if suddenly changing the subject he asked:

– Tell me, have you ever wondered how it is to live in other regions of the Galaxy?

There was no reason to lie when he seemed to already know the answer.

– Yes. I've tried to imagine a few times, Sir.

– So, you know there are distinct types of people scattered about it, right?

– It may well be so. The Galaxy is immense – Millicent was staring at the mountains as she spoke; the planet where she was seemed to be large, so the Galaxy must have immeasurable proportions.

Soon after saying that, however, she felt a slight discomfort. She could not say that she had been in many places; her biggest territorial moving occurred when she was transferred to the Base, and she never left it since then. Armitage Hux, on the other hand, spent his childhood going from place to place across the Unknown Regions of the Galaxy. What she had just said must sound hilarious to him.

Fortunately, he made no comments about his subordinate's lack of experience.

– Yes. It's very possible. Millicent, what I'm going to say is not the kind of thing that looks pleasant or ideal. But we must not be naive to the point of ignoring such things – he stared at her – For example, the fact that History lies. And it does because it has more need of doing it than anything else. Or do you think it would be good for our reputation if these Stormtroopers went out saying what they really think of being on guard duty at such a low temperature?

– I'm sorry, Sir, but they're trained from birth to duty. They were molded to be reliable.

The General smiled.

– Just like you and all the people who work on the bridge. Still, look what your tiny hands did to that man.

The girl shivered with the cold and the memory of the episode. She hid her hands behind her.

– As long as we trace the memorable facts, there’s little that should be considered besides sounding convincing and effective. By these parameters, there is hardly room for beauty or idealism, I know. These things may get their space later or may not appear at all.

– Well, they may not be indispensable to History, but at least they could serve to draw people into the essence of a cause, to assimilate its validity. What is told must sound convincing, but it is not worthy to inspire anything but fear or hopelessness.

The grin returned with greater intensity to Hux's face at these words.

– Some people need to see things from this perspective. But not all of them. This is why I have just asked about your deliberations about life in the Galaxy. Did not I tell you that there are people who don’t mind seeing anything? Well, know this: in all systems, in pleasant places and in shadowy corners, in the most prosperous planets and in the most disadvantaged among them, this kind of creature proliferates with an almost indecent frequency and ease – a brief examination of Millicent's face and his grin turned into nodding – They are despicable creatures, and you hate them even without knowing them, I know. Some of them are selfish, dark in character and twisted in principles. The others are nothing but obtuse and accommodating. In both cases, their moral code comes down to this: no matter who they have to recognize as ruler of the Galaxy, whether an Empire, a Republic, the First Order or even a Resistance or a gang of non-human assassins, provided they do not have their miserable routine disturbed for a long time, everything will be fine for them.

Millicent rose her voice with sincere concern about the subject.

– And how does the First Order intend to maintain control over such a large and indifferent population? If they are as susceptible as you say, Sir, it is not convenient to leave them unattended. There would be opportunities for riot.

– Here is the superiority of the First Order over them. We did not watch them – the General took the cup from her hands and put it in his greatcoat’s pocket – _We take them to us._

 


	6. Giving Her Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conversation goes deeper and scarier than the FO girl expected, and she thinks she's better leaving. But there's more that the General wants her to know, and the girl finds out that the more she knows, the more she wants to know...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, FINALLY, the scene that made me start all of this comes to light!!!
> 
> Everything that I created for the plot and etc was because of this moment, and I was soooo scared of f* up the whole thing that writing this chapter felt like giving birth to a child lol
> 
> BUT here we are, just go and have fun with my two children because they're certainly having their own (. '-').

_"The male is not less the soul nor more, he too is in his place, (...)"_

_(Walt Whitman, I Sing the Body Electric - VI)_

 

 _"His function is to act as a focusing point for love, fear, and reverence, emotions which are more easily felt towards an individual than towards an organization."_  
_(George Orwell, 1984)_

 

Keeping such a large number of people under surveillance must be an expensive task. Taking these same people under control, whether they realize it or not, should be infinitely more practical.

Millicent was surprised that this idea had not occurred to her before. But now that she was leaning over it, she found it obvious and logical.

– I see – she said, still reflecting on the matter – But how can we do it, Sir?

The General soon began to explain, in his voice a tone that was intended to be casual, as if a native who spoke about a cultural trait of his planet to a foreigner.

– There are some effective ways. For example, with some of them we have economic transactions in progress. With others, we may imply that we leave them as they are, with their precious idea of freedom and their strange notion of law and order. Then at some point in the future they will remember what we did for them and will not hesitate to show their gratitude by doing whatever the First Order demands, hoping to perpetuate their previous circumstances. In both cases, we are one step ahead. We let them believe that they are gaining something, and you will see that in fact they are, but the true victory belongs to the First Order.

Millicent kept his hands hidden behind her back and looked directly at her superior. Part of her now wondered why he had decided to talk about all those things to her, but another part, stubborn and used to take over, commanded her to keep listening and to do no more than some discreet questions.

– What about the Resistance? How is the First Order ahead in this case?

– This is the most interesting part of all – a subtle change in his countenance indicated that this was actually the most interesting part to him – Remember what I told you about working together for a cause you believe in? It's something beautiful, and even fun, for fictional bedside holo-books, but terribly limiting in real life. And this is the precise path followed by the Resistance. It will come as no surprise, then, that in the near future their idealism will fail, and the rebels will disappear.

These last words were spoken as the grandiose conclusion of an inexorable truth but came calm and low to Millicent's ears. Maybe they would indicate the end of the conversation.

The officer had her fingers entwined; she imagined that the air, colder with the departure of twilight and the night’s arrival, was what made them tremble, as well the rest of her body. It was strange, then, that such an insignificant detail was brought to attention by Hux. Taking a step forward, he passed one of his hands behind her; he took her wrist, the same one he had held to prevent her from punching the officer, and rolled up the sleeve of her uniform.

The skin exposed to the icy air instantly shuddered, and she did not have time to control the urge to hide it back under the sleeve. But she was prevented by him, who held it with the same firmness that he had used on the bridge.

– Please – he put two fingers on the girl’s pale wrist and examined it with what seemed to be medical precision – The trembling is not just external. Your blood pressure is high. I understand our conversation has followed some paths that were unforeseen for you. Winding paths, you could even say.

Millicent hid the other hand behind her, as a last resort of defense; against what, she was unable to tell. Holding her hand, the General put his gloved thumb upon her wrist’s skin, describing circles with it. The cold seemed to subside: part of the heat under his glove’s leather was released and reached her skin. Both chills faded and her heartbeats diminished until her pressure returned to its normal state.

The strange fragrance – the one she seemed to notice in the room as he put his hand on the door panel – returned with the heat.

– Do not be ashamed of your discomfort, Millicent – the General continued – I understand your feet were not made for this kind of path. It will take some time to assimilate everything. But I ask you not to hurry, because you will have your time. It will begin today, when you go back to the quarters, and will continue tomorrow when you return to service.

She looked around and felt like the sky darkened more quickly now. With the darkness came some unsettling conclusions.

So, she would remain in her post? According to what he said, yes. Will things be different now, or would there be a way to keep them the same as before that conversation? Millicent did not believe in the last hypothesis for a second. But what this change – for, yes, there was a change – should mean for her? Hux had been examining his subordinate since that morning on the bridge, studying her behavior, cataloging her reactions, and now he found out her opinions and principles while sharing some of his own, perhaps in an attempt to make a comparison or to make her speak with less of the restraint that was common to those who served the First Order. Was he expecting to find something that would explain the episode that put them face to face? Or had he begun to observe her before that, in search of the slightest sign of nonconformity, or something even worse? The First Order would certainly do this sort of probing. But that would not be a task for the General.

What he was doing now was inexplicable.

And Millicent did not like it when she could not understand something.

– I know you do not appreciate the way I managed things – Hux said, as if responding to her thoughts; his fingers relaxed around her wrist, and they pulled her sleeve back in place; both their hands lowered to their sides, without separating – But you know well that it is not wise of us to take risks. So, I want you to think about what I told you in your future deliberations and act accordingly. Remember what you’ve just said to me: inexperience is a premise to misjudgment, and it is _your_ desire to avoid it at all costs.

Millicent did not immediately respond to the warning. Nor did he take the pulse out of Hux's grasp. A nod from the girl would have been enough to sign her willingness to obey, or at least that she had understood everything that had been done so far. But it might not be right to nod when she was not sure how much – or even if – there was any willingness to obey. Or if the whole procedure had been really understood. Millicent had been tested in countless ways, and for some reason she missed, her superior had not approved of her but still would keep her in the place she was, as long as there were no more episodes like those of that day.

A part of her wished it all had never happened. Memories would make her even more uncomfortable now because Hux would not allow her to forget them. She managed to escape to the farthest place from the bridge just to bury them the same way a Stormtroopers would sink his boots into the snow of that planet, but the General had traveled the same distance to recover them, to deepen them, to disrupt them in order to test her.

Suddenly, seeing herself under someone else's expectations began to irritate her in a way she had never felt before, and the other part of her wanted things to go on for a little longer, just enough that she could recover and stick to the dignity that escaped from her yet in the reconditioning, when Hux opened the door for her.

Her feet would never be pinned to the floor like this again.

– I can, and I will do what you ask of me, Sir, but I will do it, first of all, for having obtained answers, and not only for the functional character of my service. From all that has been said, we now know each other's opinions about beliefs and motivations, and if what you’ve just said about divergences of principles is correct, I’m sure you will not be surprised by their presence in this case, Sir. And even if you do not appreciate what you have just discovered about my person and my ideals, Sir, know that I do not take the disapproval of others into account in such situations. Believing in my work is my condition for obeying, even though I have to deal with your disdain for it.

She was about to turn around in a hurry with a "Goodnight, Sir," and go back into the Base through the same way she came. But she did not go beyond the first step. A new pressure around her wrist prevented her from leaving: she looked down and there was the grip of his fingers again. The outer lights came on with the night fall, making the blackness of the ground and the surroundings gray.

The General began to speak as soon as he regained her attention. There was no irritation in his voice.

– There's still one thing you need to understand, Millicent. But it is not about the First Order, nor about the Galaxy. It is about me.

Millicent's voice disappeared to this.

– About you, Sir?

– Yes – his fingers loosened around her wrist but did not release it – You already know what the First Order demands from its members. Obedience, dedication and loyalty above anything else. But I do not expect only that of those who are under my charge.

Millicent looked at him, wondering what else he might want from his officers, including her.

– I do not tolerate people attributing to me ideas or intentions I do not have – he said, answering his own question – Therefore, I want my subordinates to respect their commander and do not treat him that way. Especially those who know how much it sits in a heart to see people assuming things that do not correspond absolutely to reality.

A slight shiver ran through the girl's arm that was held by him, passed through the palm of his hand and down to the tips of his fingers under the glove. She hoped it was not perceived by him.

– I let go of what you said to me this morning, as I also let go of what you said to me right now, but do not expect me to do it again.

She frowned.

– But how do I attribute to you intentions you do not have, Sir?

– Suggesting that I did not approve of you and despised you for our differences. Despising someone is something strong, so I prefer to do it on my own. Do not do it for me.

Millicent felt strangely calm at this. She was surprised by the courage of her own answer.

– If you wish to do so, Sir, please go ahead. I'm sorry I made such a mistake, but I did not lie when I told you my obedience has nothing to do with...

– I do not wish to.

Armitage Hux's reply could not have reach more unprepared ears than Millicent's.

She stared at her own hand, inside a leather glove, her fingers curled and motionless as if out of her will’s range. Protected by a glove that only emphasized the notion that the General's hand was twice the size of hers, his fingers would easily wrap around her wrist, confident in finding no obstacle to their lashing. But resistance had come from somewhere else, which had little to do with physical nature, and his hand kept still, as if the idea of conforming to what he could not reach was entirely new.

She tried to move her hand and found out she could do it. But she did not immediately remove it from his reach: she took it away with the awareness of someone who tries to get out of a trap. Her fingers passed upon the palm of his hand with suspicion, and after what she felt like an endless time, she found them outside.

However, they chose to stay.

They passed from his palm to his wrist; without trying, she realized that they could not surround it. Her fingers pushed the fabric his sleeve away and touched his wrist’s skin, right at the point that had been glimpsed in the reconditioning room. The sneak that had been extended only to her, like a vision, was now entirely within her reach. He had made the offer, and now she would accept it.

Her response reached his arm under the sleeve of his greatcoat: with her hand upon it, she tried to measure the amount of force used by her superior to hold a pulse as thin as hers; it must not have been much, but she was chilled by the idea of facing the rest.

Still with her hand on his arm, Millicent looked into his eyes. Hux had not moved away nor told her to stop: the absence of an energetic reaction from him was the confirmation that he knew what she was doing. But there were more in his eyes when she fixed them: something between the interest of a researcher and his uncomfortable surprise at small obstacles; however, as a researcher, he did not let the surprise surpassed the interest. She had always heard that her commander was more of a scientist than a military man, but she had never seen how it could be possible. Thing were different now. He was waiting for the girl to carry on; his watchful eyes seeking to predict and analyze the results.

She turned completely to the General’s side and put her free hand on his right shoulder, as the other made a similar path: her fingers examined the striped insignia on his left sleeve and the First Order’s badge higher up, until they found his left shoulder. It came as no surprise to her when he started to make it easy for her to examine, approaching her, mirroring her movements, giving her space between his arms.

The fragrance – now she was sure it was a fragrance – became almost tangible with the approaching.

Just like the Weapon did to the energy of the sun, Hux's eyes drained the pale light that touched them. Millicent no longer feared what a careful examination of his pupils, two dark, dilated spheres over the pale blue, might reveal. She would find in them whatever she had to find, whether the reason that would lead her to the so-called submission, or the one for dispensing it in its entirety; a neutral example of the values of the First Order to be followed with impartiality, or the attachment to those values added to her own motivation and conditioned to the image of a single person.

Subjectivity made this latter path the most comfortable to follow if actions proceeded in accordance with human nature, and Millicent, encouraged, healed from her doubts and left in reasonable freedom as to her inclinations, opted for it.

The girl stood on tiptoes, with her hands on his shoulders, and closed her eyes as she left a soft, discreet kiss on his lips.

Millicent's intention was not clear enough even for herself, but she believed that, having started something that otherwise would never be allowed to her, the advisable action was to depart and say farewell to the General as soon as possible, in her circumspect manners. She must not unnecessarily prolong what was no more than a silent deal of peaceful conformity between the subordinate and her commander, and her only act that would not be subject to repression throughout her time of service to the First Order.

She thought this reason was known to him, like all the others seemed to be, so she would never expect Armitage Hux to give her such an untimely response: Millicent barely had a chance to part, he pressed his lips against hers, one of his hands gripped the back of her neck, his fingers tangled in her hair, while the other wrapped her around the waist and held her in a slight suspension, her feet resting on their tips, her body tied to his.

The retribution paralyzed the girl at first. She imagined Hux intended to smother her as punishment for her blatant contempt or expose her in a way than the officer could never have done. But the circumstances were other now. And the General was not like that man; there were essential differences, which were more sensed than understood. Until then, she had not imagined that he could permit what was happening at that moment, but she knew that if the exception to the rule was present, there must be a reason for it, one that would have no resemblance to vulgarity.

Hux moved away for a moment, his eyes alternating between her mouth and her eyes.

She moved her lips with no sound.

– Sir...

He brought his lips to her ear; his voice was heard in a whisper, hovering between a command and something very different.

– Careful, girl.

He looked into her eyes again. His hand slid out of her hair and reached her face; his fingers gripped her chin as his thumb studied her upper lip and then the lower one, before opening them and putting his mouth back on hers; the cold air dancing between them was soon absorbed by their noisy inspirations.

The kiss was prolonged. And Millicent did not suffocate.

 

***

 

Her hand hit the panel and the two metal plates slammed together from up and down, closing the passage behind her back.

The dead silence of the corridor had lagged behind and was replaced by the noisy beeps of the droids in charge of the hygiene in the place. The artificial beings went from one place to another, too busy with their chores to mind detecting the presence of a human and analyzing her intentions. Not that Millicent's intentions included anything else but regaining control of her breath and recovering from what had just happened.

The girl leaned back against the door and dropped to the black floor. She let her hands fall to her sides, motionless, her chest panting by the shock between the air outside and the room’s atmosphere; her face blushing, her eyes burning. At some point a harsh laughter escaped from her mouth; but she did not care: the droids were making enough noise to suppress any sound anyone might made.

_Careful, girl._

His words would return minute by minute to her ears, in the voices of all the people who passed through her that day – Ren, the officer, Ashla, Baara, the Stormtrooper – and finally in its true owner, low, intense and close, but not close enough to the point of being rude. He was not intending to be rude. That was not rudeness. Nor anger, or just a command.

That was something else. Something she never imagined to see in him, and would not mind to have a second chance to see.

She ran her hands over her face and realized she was crying, which made her laugh even more. Those tears, the laughter, the way she sat, the windblown hair – all so inexplicable, apart from any sense of order, apart from the First Order, that she might not recognize herself if she saw her face in a mirror.

Suddenly she thought this should be the first thing to do when she left.

She tried to remember all the steps that led her into the present state. They, the sounds, the pictures were somewhere in her memories, refusing to return.

Then, a moment later, they surfaced.

Her steps through the corridors with the cup of green milk hidden in her hand; her arrival on the terrace; the gray sky; the cold wind; the Stormtroopers passing and disappearing around the corner; the precious instant of freedom; the arrival of his superior; the conversation; the awkwardness; the strange confrontation...

And that.

How to call that? The kiss? No. To call that a kiss was to simplify what included so much more. She would do it only if she wanted to refer to the part of the whole thing that was understandable to her.

It was curious that nothing related to Armitage Hux was entirely understandable. There was always the possibility to miss something: the calmness in face of Ren's anger, the immediate dismissal of the man who had tormented her, the unusual dialogue they had after that, the meeting on the terrace, and the even more extraordinary conversation about political values that preceded the kiss ... There was a reason, or pattern, behind all these events connecting them to each other. _There must be_. Nothing in the Starkiller Base was spontaneous, out of the protocol, even though it might be out of an officer's medium capacity of understanding, as were all those events. It was inconceivable that they did not carry a motive.

Hux would never do anything without a pre-conceived reason.

The officer tried to recap what she knew about his superior. She was shocked by realizing that little she possessed was concrete: he would look more like a strategist than a commander, although he made up the difference with such convincing manners. Among his methods and ideas were those that were not his own, but his father’s whom he had replaced. According to what she had heard, this man, the former General Hux, had specialized in selecting and educating children in the mold of the then young First Order. How much of the strategy of the old Hux had been tapped by the current one?

Only the stars could tell. Was he using that same knowledge in dealing with her? And what did he find in her that could validate something like that? Millicent did not know either, and she was afraid of the answers.

Yet another thing seemed intriguing to her.

If her suspicions about an experiment led by her commander were correct, Hux would now know more about her than she would have wished him to. She felt suddenly irritated. With him, with herself, with everything. Why, after all this time training to be reserved not attract more than the necessary attention, she was incapable of resisting an opportunity to expose herself, to express herself, to ask questions? And, stars, what kind of questions she made! And there were not just questions, but... After all she said and did, it was really impressive that up until now the General had not given her the proper treatment.

Or had he done it without her noticing? She said it was her desire to avoid the common misjudgments of inexperience. He had not forgotten that. He must then be determined to watch and wait for her next slip to do what should be done.

_Whatever that means._


	7. Experiment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one when we finally got the General's POV YAY! Hux is resting in his chambers while studing Millicent's history of service and deciding what to do with this peculiar girl, and we all know how much he loves to make plans (. *-*). We also find out what he saw and thought about the harassment episode, as well as the girl's response to that motherf*cker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, I'm back to this story! I've been working and organizing my stuff out of AO3 and didn't have time to translate the chapters to English, but now I'm free! LOL If this is your first time here, thanks for reaching this chapter! But if you've been here before and decided to come back, thank you too, and sorry for my absense >< The chapters are long and they take time to be rewritten in another language, but I'm doing everything I can <3

_"And I'll break my head over you"_

_(Austra, The Beast)_

 

The steam that escaped from the shower blurred the dark walls and obstructed Armitage Hux’s sight. Microscopic drops of hot water were passing before his eyes, shinning against the soft lights that descended from the ceiling. They sorrounded everything they could find on their way and kept wandering moments after the water stopped falling. Their vertiginous movements softened the weight of the silence that resulted from the deactivation of the water source.

The General had some time to spent in his chambers, but he was too used to not waste his time: he left the shower, got rid from the water’s excess with a towel and soon started to put his clothes on.

He stopped when he put his hands upon the shirt. He left it where it was and walked to the front of the mirror. He passed his hands on the fogged glass to see his own figure; with one hand he leaned on the edge of the sink and with the other he examined his chin while approaching the reflection, finding nothing that differed from what his eyes noticed on previous occasions: his skin, turned red by the water’s temperature, the shinning of the steam accumulating through it, a coppery-toned hair section that fell upon his forehead, dripping; in his eyes, some irritation that covered their iris with a rosy tone, and the contrasting blue at the center of their globes;  under his fingers that touched his facial line, the roughness of a growing beard.

The image of a man undressed from his waist up, his hands without the leather gloves, his high and rosy finger joints pressuring the black stone of the sink. A man exposed, not just to the wet and tepid air that succeeded the bathing, but to his own deliberations.

And to the marks.

It is not too difficult for a casual observer to lose the count of the marks on a military man’s skin, but Hux knew the quantity as much as he was selective about the story told by each one of his own. There were those ones whose memories were worth keeping, and those ones from which his eyes look away at the very moment they noticed them. It was true, he didn’t belong to the imperial old school: times have changed, and the military service brought to him less marks than it would do to someone at the same position who served during the old regime, but he served the First Order since its start, and when a man serves the First Order for this time, he cannot go too far before gaining the first one.

The oldest marks were the ones that made him look away. Marks from the Unknown Regions. From the first years of his life.

Marks from him.

Brendol. A man who used to create and expose them with the ease and the readiness with which he could breathe. He would live by this and for this. It was his job, his religion and his diversion, if it would ever be possible for someone to bring these three things together. Today, it was clear how ironic was that he would end up being the person who told Armitage to hide all possible marks: the younger Hux learned his lesson when he made his predecessor disappear.

He pushed away his father’s memory. There wasn’t much he could do with it but to hide it in the back of his head, as well as he couldn’t do much more than hiding his scars behind his regimentals’ dark fabric.

However, it was still within his reach to keep the respectability of his face’s appearance. Looking closer, he noticed the amount of reddish hair growing through his facial skin.

He shaved them; he used his hands to check the results and re-did the process where it was necessary until the skin became soft under his fingers.

He took a small bottle in a drawer under the sink and opened it; the perfume spread through the air around him. He let some drops fall on his palms and rubbed them on his face, his ears and his wrists. Everything done, he washed his hands, brushed his hair, finished his toilet, put the shirt upon his shoulder and left the bathroom.

The air flow that sorrounded him when the bathroom’s door was open made him shiver, but he dismissed the shirt for the second time leaving it upon the back of a chair. There was a table before it, upon which he used to leave his datapad and something to drink.

He grabbed the device, filled a cup and took both things to the bed. Finally, he could dedicate his attentions to his peculiar experiment.

He turned the datapad on and search through his saved files that one concerning the girl, Millicent. At the reconditioning room, he did a quick research while they were talking: the staff’s list was long, but that was not a common name, which saved his time.

Sometimes, the datasheets seemed to contain too much data and less information. That was the case of hers. An image at the top of the file, essential stuff like name and home planet under it, biological and physic characteristics exhaustively detailed and a brief summary of her service history.

The image was created at the time Millicent started her career, but there were not significative changes in her appearance since them. He looked for her date of birth and frowned when he found it.

\- Twenty three – he whispered. A very special period at a girl’s life, during which they don’t use to change a lot, and when is particularly hard to define their age with precision.

Especially when a girl shows such peculiar facial features like her. Hux ignored the descriptions and studied her features through the top file: he had seen enough of her at distance and had been close enough to her to see the rest already, but observing her with patience through an image had its advantages.

Millicent had clear skin, almost pale, for a whimsical nature’s decision and for the time spent in countless rooms, out of the sun’s reach, and working at the Base just increased that condition. However, her skin used to blush so easily that the lack of pigmentation was irrelevant. Her hair was dark; it looked brown at its root, but soon it would turn black at its length. According to his observations at the terrace, it was long, and didn’t take much to get tangled.

_Just like her._

Her hair was rare at her temples, but she had some baby hair there, which softened this imperfection, as well as the forehead’s height, where she had a tiny reddish spot. Her face was not oval, but something close to it, indefinable. Her nose was common; so were her eyebrows. Her mouth was small; her lips couldn’t be called thick, but they’re were nothing like thin.

Her eyes were the prettiest thing she had. They were big, in a deep shade of blue, indigo-like, appearing to be black by the long eyelashes and as dark as her hair. Hux didn’t remember seeing that shade in human eyes before.

Her face was one of those where the features would contradict themselves, if not to make it more beautiful, at least to distinguish it from the others, something common to people with tiny proportions like her: at first sight one could think she had much more than her two decades of life, but a slight change of angle could suggest that she was still a teenager.

Millicent also told him that her services didn’t start a long a time ago. It was true; it was made clear by the briefness of the text. Hux made a point of reading it: though he trusted his crew, he was experienced enough to know that there was not a specific time for someone to start causing troubles.

Soon he was reassured about it: during her brief service, she didn’t do anything to deserve a reconditioning session. All that was said by those lines  was that she has been working was reasonably good until now, not questioning orders or or showing any undesirable traits, but sometimes she needed some advice concerning her tendency to distraction during her training period and, at Starkiller, in one occasion or two her superiors recommended her adopting a stronger tone while speaking.

The General focused his attention on what was written about her distraction and giggled.

If there was someone who didn’t seem to pay attention, it was the officer responsible for registering this.

Armitage Hux has been observing Millicent carefully for a long time before the incident that made him take her out of the deck. He was aware that distraction wasn’t the correct name for what the officer had in my while creating registering the data. No; the girl didn’t get distracted when she looked from the computer screen to her sorroundings. She was observing. Reading expressions. Counting steps. Listening to conversations. And she would keep all of this to herself.

She did this to every officer that entered the bridge that morning, and to Ren.

It’s been a while since Hux started to look among the crew for someone who could serve as an extension of his own senses at the deck. Someone who would see and listen without showing what they’re doing, someone capable of remembering and analyzing what they see. He himself was particularly good at this, but he must recognize that just one man could not do it all alone. So, he started to look for the appropriate person to fill these needs. Of course, Millicent was not his first choice on this matter: other people with similar profiles have been subjected to the test, and all of them have been disapproved by various reasons. However, it was her turn now.

And what the girl did that made her worth of the General’s approval still made him laugh.

She was in the middle of her observations when she was approached by the officer in that shameful way. The girl’s startle in her seat and her brief look to the man didn’t go unnoticed by the ones working close to her, but none of them did more than look away and act like they didn’t see anything. Millicent turned to her computer and didn’t change her position until her shift was finished.

Later that week, a disturbing progress on the situation took place. The officer, not satisfied with his first assault, had gone to his second one, longer, dirtier, rougher, exactly like one would expect from such an unpleasing and stupid man who had been reconditioned in previous occasions after showing questionable behavior and had been reinstated to service. But now he did enough to be permanently removed from his position, and Millicent would agree if someone told her so. No, she didn’t do or say anything to show her discontentment, but Hux saw her eyes that time, following with disgust the way the man made to where the General was.

Those were the eyes of someone who just discovered her own wrath. And who would take too long to find a way to release it.


	8. Bonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we continue to follow General Hux in his meditations about the girl's case as he grows curious about this small angry bean called Millicent and decides to learn more about her...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translating the chapters of this story are consuming all my energies, you have no idea ( '-') And now that I'm taking some time of my days to look for a job and try to conciliate this with my ordinary tasks, you can imagine how difficult it is to sit before the computer and rewrite every sentence of these long chapters in my second language, and re-read them to fix errors. But I'm not complaining, I'm so happy for keeping up with this project that I can't let myself think of any negative aspects! If you reached this chapter, thanks for your time and patience, this story is nothing without you ;)

_"Come to me now_

_I could use someone like you"_

_(Muse, Psycho)_

 

The wrath’s liberation by the girl came in the next morning, blatant and unexpected, as an amazing scene for Armitage Hux’s eyes.

He still remembered, the man started to bother Millicent that very week, in its first day. He had qualms to wait until two days passed to keep up with his job, as well as to make the case fade in her memory, which seemed to work, because the girl worked more quietly during that period, though her casual observations became sparse. By the visible shame of his coworker, the officer got what he wanted, but he couldn’t handle his own arrogance and stupidity, and he continued to provoke the girl a second and a third time.

Hux had his back to the bridge’s interior, looking at the snow through the transparasteel barrier; he turned his head when he heard the metallic doors opening at the extreme opposite of the room, but he didn’t dare leave his place, not yet. He gave a quick look to a chrono in a screen nearby and recognized the exact period in which the officer used to show up. He turned to the deck’s extension, his eyes roving over the corridors until reach Millicent’s place, and waited.

Yes, everything would happen as the way he imagined.

The man followed his way down the corridor, his boots moving in conformity with his colleague’s (the same officer of the previous occasions), without any trace of hurry or anxiety. His face was impassible, but the roughness of that face was not enough to disguise that sparkle in his eyes, which Hux hated for he knew well what it meant: the sparkle in the eyes of a person who thinks they’re above the ground to which they actually belong.

He stretched out his hand, until it reached the girl’s neck. Millicent’s fingers were working since the officer’s arrival but stopped at the moment he passed behind her.

His fingers touched her skin, and that was the worst thing they could have done.

Millicent released her anger, and the officer learned his place.

The scene was as hilarious as satisfying: a high cry of pain that paralyzed all the deck, the noise of a body being pushed against a table and a scared man in his uniform that was about to be punched in the face and left with such a disgusting nosebleed, and the punch would come from the pale tiny hand of a flushed angry girl with nothing that resembled the one sitting in that place moments before.

To speak the truth, Hux was not willing to interrupt the fight. His feet refused to leave the platform when he first tried to. But it was necessary. The dirt and the dramatic character belonged to other places, not to his command’s deck.

He walked down the corridor and reached them at the right moment. Her arm was bent, and her hand was closed so tightly around his neck that the man scowled and tried to turn his face away, all in vain. Hux stretched his hand and his fingers closed themselves around her wrist, restraining them with no obstacles: that was the tiniest wrist he has ever touched; agility was what gave her movements the illusion of strength. Besides, her anger disappeared as soon as she turned and saw the General by her side. The man’s face was stoned and pale.

Then everything ended. The girl, suddenly cold by watching her wrist being held by her superior himself, the man, free from her hands and trembling more than if he was tossed in the snow and his colleague paralyzed, without knowing what to do (he tried to separate the two, but a negative gesture from Hux, while he was approaching, kept the officer in his place).

Now it was necessary to decide what to do with each one of them.

The first person to leave the scene was, naturally, the problematic officer. It was hard to hide the disgust for his reaction to the sound of the Stormtroopers’ boots when they came to take him: without an intelligible word, he started to shake and cry, and he had to be dragged out the room by the soldiers; the door closing behind their back was the best thing to be heard since the man’s scream.

The second officer, though hiding his discomfort with mastery, was still unsure about what to do, and felt grateful to be sent to the platform in order to wait for Hux to return; he walked away fast, without questioning anything.

And finally, there was Millicent. The girl was right behind the General, her hands hidden behind her back; she was as silent as a tomb. Her breath was under control, but her bottom lip was trembling convulsively; it was not difficult to wonder if her hands were in the same conditions, though they would certainly hold each other to contain their shaking. Her eyes seemed to be inflated and darker when she raised them to him, and they turned to the floor as soon as she was given the order to follow him.

It was such a hard task to find out what was in those eyes. Of course, Hux has seen them before and would easily recognize them in a holoimage, but that was the first time he would see them so close. The first thing he noticed was the color, so peculiar. Then, as he walked with her through the corridors, he started to think about the emotions showing there.

Fear? Of course. It was just natural that fear turn out to be the strongest thing to jump from those eyes, given the circumstances. But that was not an ordinary fear, coward as the officer’s; it was less like fear than a suffocating apprehension. Apprehension that led to the second thing he noticed: confusion. What’s the reason for that interference by the General himself in a case between officers, and for that dramatic protocol break? That was more interesting. That would entertain him more than anything else.

In the room which, by the way, he reserved for that – and which kept empty by the reprobation of all the previous officers – the girl’s eyes, free from the unsettling scanning of everyone’s eyes, sparkled with curiosity. And not just her eyes, but all of her soul was dying to understand what was going on there.

It was so exciting, so fun to have eyes staring at him this way that he felt tempted to tell her everything at once. But patience and experience won. He knew it, one could not give them everything they want the moment they want. Patience and experience would work for Millicent too. The girl would learn to wait, and knowing the benefits of waiting, she would always come back for more.

She seemed upset by it. All of them always did. At first, wondering that everything would be given to her as soon as the doors close to separate them from the rest of the Base, her tone was obedient and balanced, oscillating between courage and hesitation; above all there was the concern to show the appropriate behavior: if she felt she was not speaking with enough precision, she would step forward and say what she considered to be a brave reply, but as soon as she would think she was going too far, she would step back and assume the suitable manners of an officer. But Hux scanned and pressured her, and then interesting things started to happen. In a game where experience determines the beginning and the end, he would let her think she knew where she was going, but then he would surprise her by changing the directions, and Millicent would do anything to deal with the turn outs.

Finding out how far he could lead those abrupt changes was not a difficult task: any slightly negative word or direct reprimand would let her confused, which soon would lead her to anger. She was that curious type who considers her actions to be extensions of her own body: if someone would attack her by what she thought or said, it would cause her almost physical pain.

But it wouldn’t last long: Millicent risked direct, bitter responses – some even stubborn – but she ended up regretting them, for she didn’t know what they would result to her. However, her superior led things to strange directions, and soon her tension was put aside, replaced by the curiosity to find out the next step.

That was the situation until the moment she was dismissed.

Above all, this was Hux’s favorite moment, except for what happened at the deck. He started to study the girl’s file on his datapad as soon as she left the chair and turned her back on him, but he sensed that the door took a strange amount of time to open. He raised his eyes and found her standing before it, and at the same time the girl turned to the table and called him.

He wanted to laugh at the memory of it: the “Sir!” that escaped from the officer’s mouth sounded so loud and clean through the small space between them that it was heard by the Stormtroopers outside the room.

Millicent sensed the effect as soon as she shut her mouth, and her face gained such a violent blush that she would clearly pass out before leaving the place. That was a shame, though: she wanted to say something, or ask him a question, but now she would never do it, and what she’s got in mind suffocated to give its place to something entirely new, a word that the General didn’t hear from his subordinates everyday.

_Thank you._

Curious words, indeed. Said at once, in a low tone and with all the docility that lacked in her previous responses. Just for its rarity, it was such a beautiful word for one to hear.

So, there was more. More that could be extracted, examined, improved. That _thank you_ was unpremeditated, that was clear, but improvisation was something that Hux valued for countless reasons and, besides, her words were sincere. Yes, her reaction was favorable to what seemed to be a secret favor by the General, a discreet solution to a problem that would expose everyone that was involved, an unexpected ending for an extraordinary case.

Millicent appreciated secrets. And bonds. But she was still unaware of this, and it was his job to show it to her. And what could be better to create the first lines that would turn into a bond than walking toward the girl, saying that he knew her thoughts and trying to reach her by giving her a part of himself? For she wouldn’t see that small gap between his sleeve and his glove he showed as he opened the door to her in a different way.

She would concentrate her meditations on this. She would think of it. Question it. She would take all the conclusions she had to take, and the way would be prepared.

Armitage Hux then started the second step.

 


	9. As Clear as the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our General takes his final conclusions about the girl, the whole case and... Well, what does that girl know about kisses?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I'm back!!
> 
> And I'm so sorry for my absence! Many things happened in my life, good things, terrible things, and they took time be managed, but here I am, back to one of my favorite projects. This first part of Millicent's saga is coming to its end: there are only an interlude and two chapters left. After working on their translation and posting them here to finish this part, I'll turn my attention to my other projects here, and I'm planning to bring new stuff in the future. The second part of this story is also finished in Portuguese (which you can read it on my Wattpad account), and I'll bring it to AO3 as soon as possible!

_"It will be your life's work to (...) hammer their malleable minds into whatever shape you so require. They will be tools (...) This is my gift to you, boy."_

_(Gallius Rax to Armitage Hux, End of the Empire, chapter 32)_

 

 

Armitage Hux left the datapad on his side upon the bed and meditated on what he just read, as well as what he just extracted from his memories.

If all his work with the newest generation of Stormtroopers represented a single part of his _modus operandi_ , his work with Millicent came to represent the rest of it.

His work was done not just through words or ideas. Nor it was supported only by physical hands. No, these things functioned together, one being unable to survive without the other.

He himself was too many things.

An engineer, who would dig deep through the available materials in order to find out its utility and its most appropriate destiny, organizing each part in the best places.

A blacksmith, who wouldn’t feel ashamed of the strength applied to mold the matter, for the man’s hands need to work as well as his mind, or at least to get close to it. His definition of _strength_ was an amount of ideas that he liked to reunite under this name, but all of them were in conformity with each other: sometimes, someone who seemed to resist the molding process for a bit longer would appear, and the strength would become necessary – whatever its meaning – to finish the work.

But he was, above all, a man of Science, for there were just a few things that could not be included in the category of scientific experiment. Most of the things he did, especially in their initial phases, were experiments. Most of them would follow the course of his predictions; a few of them would show variations here or there, or even unpredictable traits, but they wouldn’t happen to be completely altered. These latter were precious for him. They would confirm what he knew about the space that served as his research field, as well as what he knew about himself.

Millicent, the girl of the command deck, was one of these latter experiments. No, in actuality, she was of an unprecedented kind, even among them. A kind that demanded something more than the combined efforts of the engineer, the blacksmith and the scientist.

She demanded gifts that could be found only in an artist.

The moderate and affable tone of her voice demanded ears sensitive enough to pick it up and construe it with precision. Her thoughts and emotions were intense, and a solid base to sustain them was necessary, or the cracks caused by their eruptions would ruin all the rest. Her senses were always alert, and her instincts made her suspicious, shy; a discreet approaching, gentle, quiet, was the only way to reach her.

Millicent was valuable piece, indeed, but she lacked strength.

_Touch her with less than tenderness and she will fall apart, with no chance of recovery._

The others had succeeded on this point... and that’s exactly why they failed the test. Finding herself exposed, vulnerable in such a cold and merciless place like that planet was the price she paid for her sensibility. It was impressive to see how far she got, that she had served for so long without losing her sanity.

Hux’s pride of how he managed the first stage of the experience – selecting his officer, separating her from the rest, making her aware of this separation and leading her to curiosity about his reasons – was justified.

The second stage, he thought with a grin, was his favorite: the intense and complex work in the girl’s mind.

His job here would last much longer than the conversation of the previous night; it was impossible to say how long. But the first steps had already been taken by Millicent herself.

She wasn’t just observing. She was waiting. Looking for perspectives. Craving them. Her means of action in order to obtain them were exhaustively limited by the obligations of her job, her routine, her education; she didn’t fit the mold, and the mold rejected her. She had no way to find out how long she would survive, so she was doing her best. She would silence herself, work and obey.

But she would never stop observing. And waiting. Then the time has come.

Millicent already knew what she was waiting for, and she would recognize it in any circumstance.

_When you look at the future, what do you see, Sir?_

So decidedly she asked this question that her superior was left speechless for a moment. But he was not vexed; instead, he felt what he could call a pride for having in his Base someone brave enough to do such a thing.

She was aware that she wouldn’t find what she was looking for among her colleagues, so she began to look in somewhere else. Fortunately, Hux got in her way. If he had gone to someone else, there’d be no guarantee that she would be there to remember the story. They wouldn’t have met at the deck. Wouldn’t have started anything at the room. Nor have finished anything at the terrace.

Thinking about how things ended up at the terrace still made him laugh like nothing else.

The case was that he had already met people like her before. If there was something one could say against them, is that they had an abnormal quantity of locks, all of them stronger than the Starkiller’s shields. They were secretive, obstinate, wild beyond the acceptable limits. They wouldn’t let themselves be subdued or convinced so easily. But he also knew that things tended to change as soon as they fall in the right hands.

She got reasons to be afraid of what would happen next. Or to feel irritated by what seem to her like a cruel intromission. Or to feel overwhelmed by her sad situation. Why things were not for her the same they were for others? Things were never simple. And this would throw her into trap after trap. She was so used to this pattern that she almost ran away when she should stay.

_I really thought she would hurry back into the Base. She was so scared that I thought a heavier breath would make her run._

Her wrist shivered in his fingers, and the cold was not the only reason for that. Her hand was shivering as much as her wrist when it returned and initiated her cautious exam, but she found balance, gaining confidence in its work, and quickly not just her hand, but her whole person was where she was supposed to be. In the company of her precious perspectives; in his arms.

She was delicate, careful in her task. But somehow dying for something new.

_It wouldn't be a surprise if that was her first kiss. But I doubt that she would tell me, and I see no reasons to question her. It was also her last resource in her attempts to conciliate things. I couldn’t let it be wasted._

And so he did not: pulled her to himself before she could consider to walk away, and unified the last part of the chain before all the others could undo.

Hux’s initial response made her cringe as well as she did in face of the sudden turnings during the conversation at the room: her tiny hands, leaning on his shoulders, clenched tightly; she let an almost inaudible moan escape and, with a slight contortion of her body, she signed she couldn’t breathe.

_It was like that amount of proximity would cause her pain._

Perhaps it would.

She was exhausted. Tired of fighting, and of running. And she was so used to the sensation that no change could happen in a peaceful way: suddenly seeing herself chosen, understood, having part of her burden removed – everything was so scary to be assimilated at once.

He gave her time. He stepped away for a while, softened his manners, let her breathe, and she reacted in comformity; giving up on her intention to run away, stepped close to him, let his hands surround the delicate proportions of her body, knowing them, studying them, figuring out the best way to hold them and causing no damage.

_Por um instante temi que pudesse quebrar-lhe as costelas caso a estreitasse mais nos braços._

It was curious how her physical traits resembled her strong tendency to sensibility in every little reaction. Millicent, by the way, was an interesting creature inside as much as on the outside precisely for that: one would complement the other proportionally.

She didn’t have the precepts that separate a pretty face from the others, but her appearance was far from ordinary, as well as her mental activity would note qual her to the ones around, but would distinguish her to the point of making a careful observation necessary; her short height could make her go unnoticed in the same way the circumspection of her manners could make her invisible among her companions; her hair, disheveled while untied, was as uncontrollable as her sense of integrity and instinct of survival; her eyes, big, dark, when they find a target, were relentless as her determination in keeping some part of herself out of the exterior world’s reach.

Such a strange kind for a place like Starkiller Base.

_A kind that demands the talents of an artist for her molding._

Hux was not an artist. Not like Gallius Rax had been.

Gallius Rax, the man who found him when he wasn’t but a child and gave him the work of his life as a gift.

There was a time when Rax was the only one who would know what to do with people like her. He had something in his speech, in the way he used to move his hands, something in his person that turned him exceptionally good with this kind of thing.

He would’ve liked her. A sweet and obedient girl, however far from obtuse. Curious, observing, never denouncing her intrusions. Idealist and a little obstinate, but not to the point of interfering her flexibility. Spontaneous enough to worth the experience with no great reasons for worrying. Unforeseen stuff like that were such a poisonous pastime, and not having to worry about the casualties of it was more than Hux could expect.

A matrix failure for a stupid commander, but the perfect matter for the experiment conducted by a scientist like Armitage Hux.

He might not be an artist, but he would understand and deal with the case with considerable mastery; to him, the value of people like Millicent was as clear as the stars.

He looked at the datapad’s chrono and realized he would have to go back to the deck in a few moments. He stood up, gave away the glass that was still in his hand, put his gloves on and finished to dress.

He was about to leave when he turned and took a tiny object up from the table in which he used to leave the datapad. He smiled to it, so little between his fingers.

The cup of green milk he brought with him from the terrace.

 


	10. Interlude - She Used To Dream About Night Wanderings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It comes as no surprise that a girl like Millie has strange dreams. They use to repeat themselves from time to time, and apparently this is her brain's favorite...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, it's so hot here where I'm writing that I don't know how I'm still alive 

_"I have a recurrent dream"_

_(Björk, Heirloom)_

 

_"I want to, I want to be_

_Under your skin"_

_(Hole, Dying)_

 

She used to dream about lonely night wanderings. Not about travels, nor hiking. Just wanderings.

She used to go on barefoot, with a night gown which straps, so thin, were always about to slip from her shoulders if she takes a faster step. This is why she was always with her hands crossed upon her chest. No, it was not just because of that: its fabric was transparent and was always soaked, which would let her exposed as much as if the gown was not there.

Her skin was always wet too, shivering, cold, clinging to the gown. But she never heard any storm outside. She never caught a cold. And the corridors were always dry and clean, as they were supposed to be. She would cross them, leaving a trace: small watering steps, drops that would fall from her hair, her clothing, everything. The floor was warm, but her steps were wrinkled by the cold.

The corridors would keep dry. She was the only thing out of order to walk on them.

Sometimes she would feel it was nighttime outside. She couldn’t explain, but something in the lights on the ceiling used to change at the end of the day. Other times she would swear that it was a merciless, winter morning, icy and gray as a soldier’s dead body. She was not so sure; it seemed to be something between a morning and a night. But she took a few steps and soon she found out it was night.

Everything would happen the same way at nighttime.

Sometimes she would walk across countless empty corridors. Many were familiar to her, but even them wouldn’t seem the same. Other times there were people. No many; just some. They would come and go, but never look at her. They wouldn’t touch her, nor speak to her. But she would cross her arms and flinch, worried about the wet traces on the floor. They would find her and punish her.

First, she thought they could bum pinto her and thus catch her out of her designated area, without the appropriate clothing, but there was a time when a Stormtrooper touched her shoulder while passing before her, which moved her gown’s trap from its place. She promptly put it back, hoping that he hasn’t see anything, but the soldier moved on and disappeared, without a word or a look over his shoulder. This is when she realized: he couldn’t see her. No one could.

She started to walk in peace after that.

One day, when she felt the drops were thicker than usual, she grabbed her hair between her hands and twisted it to get rid of the water. A trickle, which turned into a flow, left her hair and reached the floor. And didn’t stop when it should.

She stopped. Then started to rub her hands through her face, her body, until she finally understood. There has never been a storm outside. The storm lived inside her.

Eyes would not always cry on their own.

She looked around. Her sight was blurry. More white silhouettes passed through that suffocating place; black uniforms filled the space between the white shapes.

They couldn’t see her, nor hear or feel her.

She looked ahead and ran between them.

She crossed corridors after corridors. There were no more people. She didn’t know if the corridors were leading her to new ones or reappointing her to the first ones. she started to feel tired and cold. She stopped to take a breath and kept moving, walking.

There, just ahead, something, someone, a figure, turned around a corner and disappeared. She thought she saw a heel, the back of a black boot lifting from the floor and moving to its next step, which would be taken out of her sight.

She held on to what she imagined and followed the figure through the next corridor.

 

***

 

The room was dark.

Its corners would vanish into the shadows, and it seemed to spread to all possible directions, except for the one that the girl thought to be the north, where a transparisteel barrier separated the urge of the winter outside from the stillness of the interior.

A warm scent would spread across the room, good and calming. The room had not furniture, at least nothing she could see. Somewhere behind her there was a door, but she wasn’t able to remember the way to where she was now standing. Well, she couldn’t even remember the door: there were corridors after corridors, where the boots slipped out of her reach and, then she opened her eyes to find herself in that place; she realized the unknown’s feet were leading her all that time.

She was still in her gown, and it was still soaked, but the trickle had stopped, and her feet no longer failed her when she walked. She was not trembling anymore.

Two hands approached behind her and placed themselves in her shoulders like two pale birds. She didn’t cringe, nor repelled them; they were not intrusive, nor rude. They were parts of her coming back to their original places.

Their fingers wrapped around her gown’s straps; they pulled them away from her shoulders, and the gown slipped to the floor. The fabric made no noise when it reached the it; she didn’t mind trying to find it on her feet; she felt it had disappeared. And she would never see it again.

In its place, another fabric, heavier, dark as the room, was placed on her shoulders, and she clunged to it as soon she noticed it. All the water was gone, and it didn’t return thanks to the new fabric. Her skin warmed up, her feet relaxed, and she felt sleepy.

The hands took her, and the arms to which they were connected held her. They took her to other part of the room. But she didn’t see the way they followed.

She hid her face on the fabric and fell asleep.

 

***

 

That dream has returned so many times that she no longer saw it as a dream, but as an immaterial part of her reality, an extension of her day. there were little variations on this and that, like a stumbling on a corridor or someone who seemed to see her but was in fact looking through her, but she would consider all these variations as versions of the same thing.

The last part of it – the cozy warmth of the room, the transparisteel barrier and the hands that led and held her – was not always present, but when it was, showed no variations. She would sleep in those unknown arms and wake up in her own bed, at the quarters.

That night, the hands assumed a known appearance.

That night, they were _his_ hands.

He was leading her in silence across the corridors, invisible to the others as much as she herself. Her hand held by him was warm and dry, and it was not shaking. She was not shaking. Her feet were warm, though she was not wearing any shoes, and they left no traces on the corridors. Her hair was dry, and it wasn’t tangled like it used to get when she left it untied for a long time. Her skin started to dry fast.

When they reached the room, only the gown was wet. It was clinging to her skin, but it didn’t get wet. She couldn’t understand how.

He released her hand, then his own hands emerged on the place the other hands used to be in the dream: on her shoulders. But they didn’t come from behind: a scent, his scent, suddenly reached her nostrils, and everything was real and tangible to her. This time, she startled: she knew what was coming next.

_Shhhh._

He asked her to stay in her place while the work was being done. it was also a request for her to stay calm. But she wasn’t able to stay calm.

His fingers touched the straps and pulled them away. She didn’t stop them. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to; it was the instinct of not letting him come so close. If he continued, he would end up conquering her.

_He will see me. He will know. He will overcome me._

And he did.

The wet fabric disappeared on the dark floor, and for a moment she was exposed.

As in the previous times, the hands came back with the cloak that should replace the gown. But it wasn’t a cloak.

she looked down and saw two white stripes. She knew them from her daily reality.

She knew them as belonging to him.

He did what he was intending to do from the start: an experiment, a replacement. Not from a gown to a coat. Clothing weren’t but a rehearsal of our skin. And as we change our clothing, we also change our skin.

He stripped her from her own skin and dressed her with his own.


	11. Rapture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our girl wakes up with a freaking hangover, but she has a job to maintain, so she hurries up to the shower and goes to the bridge. She tries to forget what happened and promise herself to focus on her duties and behavior, but soon she will find out that the story is not over yet... In fact, it's just beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Millie's POV, which is so easier to work with! The story's last chapter is just ahead, and it's longer than this one, so I'm not sure of how many time I'l need to translate it. More details of it (as well as about the whole saga) will be on this future chapter's notes ;)

_“Who would suspect me of this rapture?”_

_(PJ Harvey, Black-Hearted Love)_

 

Millicent was not sure if she woke up before she left the bed or otherwise. Not that there were reasons to worry about; as long as she could be found on her feet, with her eyes wide open at the right hour, it wouldn’t matter. Nothing else would be considered when one’s posture was good, and their collar was correctly buttoned.

She pulled off the sheets, turned aside and her feet touched the floor.

As she was standing up, the scenes around her were clarifying in her mind, assuming the few available shades at the Base’s grounds. She blinked several times trying to get rid of burning in her eyes and moved away from the bed as she tried to silently identify everything around her.

In that morning, things took a bit longer to show.

When she felt she was able to understand what her eyes were seeing, the girl found herself in a bathroom. She just left the shower area, used a towel and took care of her hygiene; now she was dressing up. She was aware of buttoning her uniform in the right way because she could see what she was doing, but her fingers were numb.

She walked to the front of a mirror and started to brush her hair.

The girl was not alone. People with which she used to share the quarters were now on both sides of her doing the same, their controlled gestures, their passive countenance. But Millicent wouldn’t see them. She wasn’t even aware of her own reflection.

She was still dreaming.

_That dream. Again._

That dream.

The memory of it, as the previous night’s events, hit her like a blaster shot.

Did it really happen the way she remembered? Yes. During the first hours of the night, lying on her bed, she went over and over the fateful sequence. There was no room for doubts or pranks by an unreliable memory: what was there was the truth of all the facts.

A truth that blurred her eyes and made her face burn like never before.

_If I didn’t forget that, he certainly did not. He must be waiting for the right moment to punish me._

Because it was clear that the case would not go without the necessary discipline. The way she was dismissed by the General signed what would happen next.

He answered to what she started, and even showed some interest in what he was doing. He seemed excited by the idea, even when there was no reason for that. But it didn’t last long until the emotions started to cool, and his hands loosened their tight around her waist, his eyes started to open and their lips separated from each other, until they both returned to their respective positions in the physical space as well as in the hierarchy to which they were subjected.

He put his hands behind his back and took a deep breath; it was already dark, so Millicent regretted the impossibility of seeing the contrast between his blushed skin and his blue eyes with precision. She crossed her arms to protect herself from the sudden cold that surrounded her body.

"You are free to go back inside", she heard him say. "Hurry, if you want to get there before the snow starts to fall."

She didn’t remember saying anything intelligible to him. She just nodded and turned her back, walking back to the interiors through the same path that led her there. When she turned a corner, she came across a pair of Stormtroopers doing their patrol; she passed by them without stopping, silently thankful for they did not arrived a single moment before.

Millicent leaned on the sink and moistened her cheeks; she straightened up to face her reflection and felt relieved for they were not red.

She used a towel and glanced at her colleagues. No one was paying attention to her; they didn’t even seem to remember what happened at the bridge.

_They don’t remember. They have no idea what happened after that._

In them, she saw no signs of what was waiting for her. No one was watching her, but she wouldn’t feel excluded either, as it would be if she was about to be called out.

Suddenly, she thought she must leave that place as soon as possible without attracting curious looks or frowned faces.

_I need to be alone. I need to get out of here._

She knew about a little used bathroom on a corridor through which she used to pass every day in her way to the bridge. She didn’t waste time and walked away.

 

***

 

Her feet were rushing across the corridor, but they made no noise in the flat floor.

Millicent tried, but couldn’t help looking back over her shoulder or to her sides, to the parallel corridors, to see if someone was watching or following her. But as it happened in the quarters, there was no person or droid to do so. She took a deep breath in relief every time her own invisibility was assured.

In Starkiller Base, being invisible was some sort of privilege.

The place she was looking for was just ahead; she just had to turn a corner to the right and walk for a minute. Her feet hurried down before she could control them; soon it was hard to breathe; in her chest, her heart was jumping; her stomach was hurting; the things she saw in her dream came back and blended with the memories of yesterday.

She turned the corner with a sudden movement.

And was forced to stop.

\- Sir!

He came from the opposite direction of the same corner and stopped before bumping into her; his fragrance spread through the space between them at that moment.

The mist of the previous night vanished as soon as her eyes recognized him, but the embarrassment caused by it lingered, forcing her to look down and step aside to unblock her superior’s way.

Millicent was about to keep on her way through the left, no more to reach the empty bathroom, but to reach the deck, her table and her duties. She would perform them very well; she will never be so undisciplined as she was the other day.

The girl didn’t go beyond the first step.

A touch in her wrist made her stop; a soft touch of fingers which were so familiar to her now.

The corridor was empty, except for them. His voice sounded like a whisper.

\- Do you see the path you’ve just crossed?

She looked over her shoulder and spotted the end of the corridor; then nodded. She glanced to him; his blue eyes were fixed on her face.

\- Go to its end and turn your right – were his instructions – enter the third door on your left. There are Stormtroopers outside it, but do not mind them – his fingers slipped from her wrist and held her hand for a moment – I’m right behind you.

She nodded in agreement, and he released her.

Millicent suddenly changed her direction and without looking to see if he was following her, walked to where she was sent.

 

***

 

The room was empty, except for some panels in its corners. There was a transparisteel wall in its north, illuminating the place as the bridge’s barrier used to do.

Millicent was standing before it, still, her eyes fixed on the outside, but not seeing the snowy landscape. Her hands behind her back were tangled to each other nervously; the air was getting in and leaving her lungs too fast.

Everything was now so clear. Almost tangible. She must have seen it the moment she put her eyes on him in the corridor. Or even before that, in his tone when he told her to go back to the Base yesterday. Whatever his particular opinion about his experiences with her, that was going too far.

He would never ignore that.

She refused to turn to the door’s direction, some meters behind her back, but she couldn’t help doing it when she heard its opening noise.

 


	12. First, The Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one when Millicent finds out her superior is also a great hair stylist... And that he has something for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original text for this chapter is a bit longer, so I found it better to post half of it under the name "First, The Order" and then posting the rest as a chapter 13, under the title "To The Same Place", which is the chapter's original name. This chapter 13 is in fact the last chapter of the First Part of Millicent Series.

_You are the silence in between_

_What I thought and what I said_

_You are the night-time fear_

_You are the morning_ _when it's clear_

_When it's over, you're the start_

_You're my head_ _and you're my heart"_

_(Florence and the Machine,_ _No Light, No Light)_

 

Armitage Hux crossed the opened door with his usual steady steps. A single touch of his hand on the side panel made the two dark plates unite behind his back. He walked toward the barrier with no hesitation, but there was no urge in his steps. He must have prepared everything carefully; he would take all the time he needed with that.

He stopped beside Millicent, his hands behind him, his eyes going through the landscape beyond the transparisteel with indifference.

The girl straightened up at his arrival.

\- General.

Instead of replying the greeting, he spoke as if he didn’t hear what was said:

\- I need you to hold this for a moment.

Before Millicent could ask what he was referring to, he raised his fists and unbuttoned his gloves; he took them off and gave them to her. And, before the officer could open her mouth to ask what he was intending to do, he turned around and stepped behind her. The girl turned her neck to follow him.

\- Sir, what do you...

\- Shhh - Hux put his hands upon her shoulders and made her turn ahead; his left hand stood where it was, but the right one stretched to reach her chin, as to make her raised her face – First, the order. Then, the work.

That was when she noticed it: a single strand of her hair, right beside her ear, has been left untied, and now it was falling on her shoulder.

When she understood what he was going to do, she remained in silence and let him go ahead.

His fingers untied her hair and go slipping through its strands, until they were all separated, and the curls were falling on her back. They were many and thick, but they didn’t appear to intimidate him: with all patience, he followed untangling them, reordering them one by one.

He started with the front strands, on the top of her head, then the one close to her temples, and after them through the ones on both sides, right behind her ears, including that untied one.

Millicent was trying not to move; sometimes she would low her eyes to the gloves, in other times she would close them, concentrated in breath without making a sound, or in avoid turning on her sides.

Again, her nostrils noticed his fragrance; it was almost expected that part of it would remain in her hair. An idea occurred to her, making her blush: Had the fragrance clung to her skin or her uniform last night? Could it be so intense to the point of being detected by whoever had crossed her way to that empty room with the cleaning droids or to the quarters after leaving the terrace?

Her hands would clench the General’s gloves as if someone could show up and take them away now that they were put under her guard. The girl was grateful for having them: she squeezed them every time she felt his finger points touch her scalp, her neck or her ears, preventing her to show any sign of tension. It was not possible to trust herself stand still. Perhaps he let her keep them for this exact reason. Hux never did anything by accident.

She was aware of how fragile was the balance she was trying to keep, but she didn’t know what to think about her own reaction when he touched her nape to tie the last strands of her hair.

Her nape, the same place where the officer had touched her.

Yes, it was the same place, but not in the same way. Her superior did it to get things ordered, not otherwise. He didn’t invade anything like the other mand had done; he was working only with he had at hand.

His touch was brief, objective and dignifying. It was a touch to purify the other’s intromission.

Finally, he unified the strands and tied them all together. And he did quickly, though the thickness of her hair.

None of them spoke after that. Millicent might have her back to him, but it was like she could see his face while he was working: his mouth must be closed firmly; his eyes must be certainly fixed on his own hands, absorbed by the delicacy of his task. Was he able to imagine her expression with the same precision? That idea made her hands shake.

When everything was over, Hux put his hands on her shoulders for the second time and seemed to lean in her direction. She heard his voice, not at her ear, but close enough to feel her skin touched by the breath escaping through his lips.

\- Pay attention to details like this. The untidiness in one’s appearance can be taken by untidiness in one’s behavior. It is not convenient to show neither of them.

She caught her breath and her strength to reply:

\- Yes, Sir.

Hux walked back to his previous spot. He moved his hand as if he wanted to brush her hair behind her ear; a discreet conclusion for an unusual task. His fingers ran through her face line until settling under her chin. He smiled to himself; the result was in conformity with his expectations.

He was about to take his gloves back but stopped to contemplate the girl’s hands among his own. She stared at him; he was studying her pale, tiny hands, her thin fingers containing in their grip the pair of gloves with some apprehension. Maybe he was remembering of the episode on the bridge; or when those hands touched his uniform at the terrace, when he brought her to himself.

She lowered her eyes to the four hands, tangled; now that none of them was wearing gloves, the differences between them were more than impressive: his hands weren’t just bigger, but they were paler too, stronger and had more marks than she expected to have in her own. They were also warm, while her hands used to get cold even in the Base’s interiors.

The moment passed quickly. Soon he was putting the gloves back, oblivious to any impressions he might have caused. He closed the last button and looked at her. His smile widened; but as in the reconditioning process, it didn’t reach his eyes.

No. he was not oblivious to what just happened. In truth, the impression was among the reasons of his contentment.

Millicent’s silence and blushing were exactly what he intended to provoke.

\- Again, Millicent, you’re blushing – he considered to approach her, who clenched her fists, trying not to leave her place – And again, I wonder why.

The girl would remember well of the first time he asked her that, and she would remember even better of the answer she gave to him.

She hid her hands on her back.

\- What were you talking about when you said "first, the order, then the work", Sir?

A slight change in Hux’s face followed the question: his smile softened, and his eyes seemed less concentrated in her reactions than satisfied with her curiosity.

\- I was talking about how things must occur. We already talked about the order, and already took care of it. So, we are free to focus on the work.

\- But what work is this, Sir?

\- The work I want to offer you, of course.

Work? So, all of that had nothing to do with disciplining her, put her in her place? To speak the truth, Millicent started to think he was taking too long to take any measures on this matter.

Of course. Her superior wouldn’t suddenly decide to keep such frequent dealings with her if he had no good reasons for that. Reasons which could include the one he had just mentioned.

Armitage Hux never did anything by accident. Never.

So, how didn’t that occur to her before?

Her conjectures didn’t go unnoticed by him.

\- Since I don’t have any reasons to punish you, I’d like you to show me some.

She crossed her arms around herself.

\- I... Do I really need to say something about it? – she gazed at him, though her cheeks started to heat up, foreshadowing the intensification of the blushing – Sir, I’m just a bridge’s officer. I know my place. I also know that I’m not supposed to leave it. But...

\- But somehow your feet insist to lead you away from this place – his smile reappeared; his blue eyes passed through the snowy mountains at the distance – And despite that, in all this time it never occurred to you the possibility of your feet being actually trying to take you to where is, in fact, your place?

The girl’s eyes widened.

\- In fact?

He stared at her.

\- The incident in the previous morning, which you insist in classify as a mere sign of non-conformity, ended up proving itself an advantage to both of us.

 _And now we got two problems solved at once_. She remembered hearing he say that. Her problem with the officer was solved, indeed. But what kind of problems her superior could have that she would be able to solve?

\- Millicent, this is the reason why I brought you here. It is also the reason why I am offering you this work – he followed – It is not from now that I have been studying your case. Your history. Your behavior. And I must say that I am _more than satisfied with what I’ve found_.

\- Sir?! – her voice came out hoarsely; her arms lowered, her hands hanging at her body’s sides.

He turned entirely to Millicent’s direction, ignoring the girl’s startle; he assumed a posture that she had seen many times at the command deck, when he had to deal with Lieutenants or Captains – any individuals with a higher rank than her.

\- This is what I want to offer you: a new place. A place that might make your life a little more comfortable here, within the possibilities.

A more comfortable life – in Starkiller Base? That was harder to believe than the expected punishment could ever be.

\- But... What kind of work is this?

\- A work that will bring mutual benefits to us. You see, I need eyes and ears at places to which I can’t give immediate or frequent attention. And, by what I could see from you, your abilities to observe and analyze are remarkable. I want you to use them when you’re at service. I’m aware that they have been taken by distraction, but from now on you won’t have reasons to worry about these judgements. It is better for them to not know what you’ll be doing. At the end of the shift, you’ll send to me all the results of your observations. This will be your job at the bridge…

He offered his right hand.

\- A job that I also believe to be according to your needs – his fingers met and tangled with hers; Hux kept speaking as he was watching them – You just need to give me a positive reply – his fingers then clenched among hers – What do you say, Millicent?

The girl felt her hand trembling among his. Things were finally making sense: their first conversation in that room, which looked like a non protocol reconditioning session; the second meet outside the Base; the perspectives showed by him; his answers to her doubts… And even what followed perhaps had an explanation.

In a certain way, he wanted her. He selected her. Clearly, he wasn’t willing to consider the possibility of hearing a negative reply, or to give the opportunity to another officer. However, was it enough comforting to be aware of that when she herself was unsure about being worthy of the job? What he was asking was logical, appropriate, but at what cost? The answer would scare her.

And she told him that.

\- Sir, I... I am flattered, but I don’t believe I am qualified for the job.

Unlike what the girl was expecting, he didn’t despise her insecurities. In fact, he seemed to anticipate them.

\- Your worries are justified, Millicent. What I’m asking from you is not simple. Your attention, or the lack of it, to the things around you will determine the results. It is clear that you’ll need some improvement. But the feedstock is already here...

He was still holding her hand. He let it go and touched the girl’s arms with his finger points; they reached her shoulder with tenderness, until they finally found her face.

\- Of course, you wouldn’t work alone on something like this. You would need some orientation concerning what to do and how to do it. Tools that would enable your actions. You would also have to learn to trust the person who would designate your tasks. There are many things I’d have to teach you. And I am sure you’d learn them well... – with his gloved thumb, he described a brief caress on her cheek – But I need your reply.

Millicent heard the terms. All of that would be at her reach if she’d say yes. It was clear that a job like that, in direct collaboration with the Starkiller’s commander, was beyond her wildest ideas of responsibility. It was not an invitation one should give a hasty reply. There was too much to consider...

But she didn’t do any considerations. She didn’t want to.

In fact, she was exhausted. As far as she could remember, all her life, making considerations never led her to anywhere. Her considerations have never been taken into account, whether by her colleagues who worked in the desks close to her, or the Stormtroopers she knew by number and even less by the people who were at the top of the military ranking. Thing only started to change when she stopped making the damn considerations.

And if what was being offered to her – as well as who was offering it – would help her to find the minimal rest, everything would be alright. She would keep her position as an officer, do what she always did, but no longer work in the dark.

She would remain invisible.

Undisturbed.

Protected.

Armitage Hux was sure she would not refuse it.

And she decided to justify his conviction.

She put her hand upon his, bringing it close to her face, her skin warming and blushing to his fragrance and the leather of the glove like never before.

\- I will do it, Sir. I say yes to your offer. I will do as you say.

 


	13. The Same Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one when Millie finally is released from her fear of being judged for her preference on kissing high ranked ginger officers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we've reached the last chapter of the Part I! But I'm not sad at all, because soon I'll bring Part II here, and we'll find out what will happen to our evil boy and his cupcake .( *-*). Also, thank you for reading and leaving kudos on this story, it means a lot to me!! And I hope to see you in Part II. It's mostly settled outside the bridge, and it's more instrospective and soft than this one, but it's totally worthy (I'm not the right person to say so, but... well)
> 
> See you ;)

The General didn’t seem much surprised by her answer. First, he smiled as he used to do when things followed the path he had traced for them. Like the scientist that watches with passion the success of his experiment.

\- Very well, Millicent. Soon, the wisdom of your choice will be clear.

Slowly, he took his hand out of her reach, leaving it under her chin; with his thumb he touched her lips, studied them, observed them until he finally approached to reach them with his own.

It was not like in the terrace. That was a slow kiss, as delicate as the morning light that crossed the barrier beside them.

Millicent put her hands on his shoulders. She was not sure if she did it to seek support or to push him away; whether the case, he moved ahead: with less abrupt manners than the night before, he warmed her lips, prolonging the kiss; he surrounded with his arms, bringing her close to him.

She stood on her toes, but no more without balance. When he pulled away to touch her chin with his lips, she ran her fingers through the _epaulette_ * of his uniform, passing by the tiny line of his neck showing out of his collar, until she reached his jawline: there, his skin was soft, as warm as his hands; his perfume was more intense there.

For the second time, her trembling of cold and apprehension were calmed down by his hands. For the second time, she was forgetting of what she was, where she was and with who she was. For the second time, that was precisely what she wanted.

It was just like he said. It wasn’t about the Galaxy, nor about the First Order.

It was about him.

But she still served the First Order. She was still who she was.

When she senses that her breath would become heavy and noisy, she pulled his lips away and put her feet entirely on the ground, trying to control herself; her hands were still on his folds, and she didn’t leave his grip.

\- Sir... – her voice almost disappeared as she fought to catch her breath - I...

\- Hm?

\- I’m wondering if it is appropriate that... I mean, even working for you, Sir, I would still be...

Hux nodded.

\- A bridge’s officer. I see - again, that smile that didn’t reach his eyes – I want you to answer a question.

\- Yes?

\- Is it appropriate to leave a deal without a seal?

\- No, but...

\- Shhh – he put his index finger upon her lips – So there is nothing in your attitudes that could exceed what is seen as appropriate.

So that was his opinion about what happened yesterday? As the confirmation of a deal that he knew she would accept right from the start? Was she so predictable as he made her look like? Was it possible for him to know what she was about to do when she decided not to run from him at the terrace? Yes, it was. Her superior was a scientist, and a scientist must know how to observe. She might observe as a past time, but he would do it as a part of his work. He observed, he listened, he knew.

And now he was going to teach her the same.

Millicent looked into his eyes as he pulled his finger away from her lip.

\- So... Can I speak freely from now on, Sir?

\- Of course – he made a caress on the girl’s face – the success of our work will depend on mutual trust.

She held his hand close to her face, feeling it warm up by what she was going to say.

\- Would you reprehend me, Sir... If I did that again?

Armitage Hux smiled in a way she couldn’t remember seeing him do so far. His fingers tightened their grip on her waist, his mouth approached her ear and soon she knew what she would hear.

\- Careful, girl.

Millicent smiled at the advertence; and released from the previous restraining, she repeated what she did on the other day.

 

***

 

They took a bit longer that time. When their lips were separated, the girl left her hands upon his uniform’s front folds; she laid down her head on his shoulder, her eyes softly closed.

_Thank you._

Moments later, the General touched her shoulders to make her look directly at him. Then he put his hands behind his back, like he used to do before giving orders.

\- You will start today. I will communicate you all necessary instructions on a private channel. There will not be failures if you follow them carefully, which I do not doubt you will do.

\- But how will I identify this communication channel, Sir?

He smiled.

\- You will identify it when you’ll arrive at the bridge to be introduced to your new desk.

That was Millicent’s turn to smile. He really had planned everything. But there was more that she’d like to know. Her eyes searched for what she wanted in her superior’s.

\- Will we meet again outside the bridge, Sir?

\- As soon as an opportunity shows up.

\- And if that happens... What procedure should be followed?

With his right hand, Hux touched her wrist, then took her hand. His answer came in the form of a low whisper, close to her ear.

\- Immediate compliance.

She was not surprised at all; her fingers tangled themselves with his and held them with the firmness of an acquiescence.

\- Yes, Sir.

Their hands then split. Millicent left the room when she was dismissed, walking to her new place in the bridge, as General Hux followed his own way after her.

But none of them could be deceived. The opposition of their courses was as illusionary and temporary as the Resistance’s hope.

In the end, all the corridors – those ones inside the Base and out of it – would lead them to the same place.

 

 

PART I - THE END


End file.
